


Memories Are Made Of This

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: Tony goes missing while undercover.  What happens when the team find him?Set in early season 13.





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Special Agent McGee.

“What don’t you believe?” asked Agent Gibbs.

“I just got a hit,” said Tim.

“What sort of hit?  Come on, we haven’t got all day,” came the biting reply.

Not for the first time, McGee wondered how Tony DiNozzo let this type of remark wash over him.  The MCRT was reluctantly looking at cold cases.  Nothing was so urgent that McGee taking a moment to draw breath was going to cause a disaster.  Tim was excited, however, and decided to ‘do a DiNozzo’ and ignore Gibbs’ tone of voice.

“A hit on Tony’s health insurance,” said Tim.

Ellie Bishop looked up, “Tony’s health insurance?” she asked.

“That’s what he said,” said Gibbs crossly.

“Our Tony or undercover Tony?” asked Bishop, proving that she too had learned to tune out Gibbs’ bad moods when needed.

“Undercover,” said Tim, “Tony Stromboli.”

“Why did he need to claim on his health insurance?” asked Ellie worriedly.

“When?  Where?” demanded Gibbs.

“Uh, two hours ago,” said Tim.  “In Washington.”

“Gear up!” ordered Gibbs, “Get the address.  Move it!” he added when it seemed that his team were hesitating.

“Not Washington DC, Boss,” said Tim, “Washington State.”

“What?” asked Bishop.  “How’d he get there?”

“That’s what we’re gonna find out,” said Gibbs.

“But, Boss,” said Tim, “That’s nearly 3000 miles.  That’s a long way to drive.  Even for you.”

“Call Agent Borin,” ordered Gibbs.  He saw the blank looks on Bishop and McGee’s faces.  “There’s a US Coastguard station at Port Angeles in Washington State.  We can fly in there.  Tell her to organise it.”

As Gibbs swept out of the squad room he heard McGee asking Agent Borin, very politely, if she could possibly do NCIS a favour and arrange for the MCRT to be transported as quickly as she could.  Gibbs smiled grimly: it might not be how he would have phrased it but he guessed it would be as effective.  His smile faded as he remembered why they were flying to Washington.

FLASHBACK

_“It’s not like that, Boss,” said Tony DiNozzo._

_“Not like what, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs._

_“The Director asked me to go on this assignment.  I didn’t volunteer,” said Tony._

_“Didn’t turn it down either,” Gibbs pointed out._

_“No,” agreed Tony.  Then in an undertone, he muttered, “Not like you want me around anyway.”_

_“What was that, DiNozzo?” snapped Gibbs._

_“Boss,” said Tony trying to be reasonable, “Ever since the Calling … and you being shot … well, it seems you don’t want me on the team.  I’m supposed to be the most senior person – your go-to guy but it’s like you don’t even want to look at me.”_

_“I don’t coddle people,” said Gibbs._

_“I know that, Boss.  And I don’t expect that.  It’s just that …”_

_“What?”_

_“Might be nice not to be treated like something you found on the sole of your shoe.”_

_“Nice?” asked Gibbs.  “Seem to remember that you don’t like me being ‘nice’.”_

_Tony stiffened.  “OK.  I don’t know what’s going on with you but I guess it’s none of my business.”_

_“Damn straight,” said Gibbs._

_“And I don’t know why you care about me going off on assignment.  Unless it’s because the Director didn’t ask your permission first.”_

_Gibbs shrugged.  “Director said it should take ten days.  I expect you back in ten days.  No taking extra days as vacation.  Understand?”_

_“Perfectly, Boss.”_

_Tony flashed a look which mingled pity, hurt and disdain and then retreated to his desk.  He barely spoke to Gibbs again before leaving on the assignment._

_Abby had worked up an ID for Tony as Anthony Stromboli who was a travelling representative for a pharmaceutical company.  It was good cover for Tony to try and infiltrate a gang suspected of selling illicit drugs to the Navy.  The Director had been impressed with Tony’s work with Joanna Teague in tracking down Daniel Budd and also noted that he and Gibbs were butting heads.  Vance hoped that sending Tony out of the office for a while might cool things down.  Agent McGee and Dr Mallard might, had they been consulted, have pointed out that it seemed to be Tony’s assignment with Teague, and absence from the office, which had led to the coolness between team lead and senior field agent and that another absence might add fuel to the fire._

_Five days into the op, Tony had dropped off the grid.  He stopped his regular contact with Director Vance and disappeared from the apartment rented under his assumed name.  The Director closed down the operation and made several arrests but some of the gang got away and those who were captured claimed not to know anything about the rep who had been so helpful in establishing contacts with the Navy._

_Tony was gone and it was decided that a nationwide alert would be too dangerous with some of the drugs crooks still being on the run.  NCIS had to settle for looking out for activity in one of Tony’s names._

_Four weeks passed before McGee got the hit on the Stromboli health insurance …_

END FLASHBACK

In less time than Bishop and McGee thought possible, and in too long a time as far as Gibbs was concerned, they were standing in the small community hospital at Cedaron.

Gibbs strode towards the reception desk.  A determinedly cheerful looking woman looked up to greet them but she didn’t get a chance to say anything.

“You have a patient called Tony Stromboli,” said Gibbs.  “I need to see him.  Now!”

“Sir?” asked the nurse on reception.

Gibbs leaned forward menacingly and read her name tag, “Nurse Malcolm, I am a federal agent.  I want to see your patient.  Now.  Don’t make me ask again.”

Nurse Malcolm might be smiley but she was tough.  There was a reason she was put on the front desk.

“May I see your badge, please?” she asked.

Gibbs ground his teeth but showed his creds.  Bishop and McGee followed suit.

“And why do you want to see Mr Stromboli?” she asked.

“I’m a federal agent,” said Gibbs, “I don’t have to explain why.”

Nurse Malcolm smiled sweetly.  “I’m not sure that’s true.  I’m going to phone up to our Legal Department to see what they say.  We take our patient confidentiality very seriously, you know.”  She began to dial a number very slowly.

“Uh,” said Tim, edging up to the desk, “Mr Stromboli is a … friend of ours.  We’re very worried about him.  I’m sure he’d be pleased to see us.”

Nurse Malcolm looked at him sceptically.  She could hear the phone ringing but knew it wouldn’t be answered.  The hospital didn’t have a legal department of its own although Cindy from Accounting had done a year at law school.

Ellie piped up, “I promise that we are his friends,” she said earnestly.

Nurse Malcolm softened, as she had always planned to do.  She looked through the list of patients.

“I’m afraid we don’t have a patient of that name,” she said.

“He’s dead?” gasped Ellie.

Bishop’s obvious distress finally melted the nurse’s heart.

“I don’t think so, honey.  We haven’t had any deaths this week.  No, I can’t see your friend’s name on our list of patients.  And he hasn’t been discharged in the last few days either.”

“Check again,” demanded Gibbs.

Nurse Malcolm’s stony look returned but she checked again.

“Er, could you check under the name of DiNozzo,” suggested McGee.

“Big D, little I, Big N, little ozzo,” said he and Bishop together.

Nurse Malcolm looked at them a little suspiciously but obliged.  “No, nothing under that name.  Are you sure you have the right hospital?”

Gibbs shot a glare at McGee whose heart quailed at the thought that he might have dragged them 3000 miles by mistake.  He looked hastily at the printout he had made before leaving the office.

“No, ma’am,” he said with some relief, “A claim was made against Tony Stromboli’s medical insurance today.  At this hospital.  See …” he held out the printout for the nurse to see.

“Hmm.  I’ll call Esmerelda down.  She does the claims.  She’ll know what’s going on.”

A few minutes later, Gibbs, McGee and Bishop were sitting in Esmerelda Jones’ office.  So far, Gibbs had remained silent with the result that Ms Jones was being co-operative.

“Ah,” she said, “I see what happened.  The claim was put in today but it relates to a hospital stay about a month ago.  I’m afraid that we’re short staffed at the moment and we’re a little behind in some of our accounting.  And this was only a small claim.”

“A month?” said Gibbs.

“Yes.  Mr Stromboli was brought here after being found wandering near the rail road depot.”

“What had happened to him?” asked Ellie.

“I’m not entirely sure,” admitted Ms Jones.  “I think I’ll call Dr Zib down.  He’s our Emergency doctor.  He was on duty when your friend came in.”

The doctor was dealing with a new admission so it was twenty minutes before he arrived to see the MCRT.  It seemed likely that word had spread about the demanding NCIS agents as he had brought a medical file with him.

Gibbs peered at his name badge, “You’re Dr Zsibiczowkyx …” he trailed off.  The doctor’s name was so long that it was in tiny letters on his badge.

“Zsibiczowkyxowskillymda,” came the cheerful reply.  “But you can call me Zib.  Most people do.”

“You had a patient, Tony Stromboli,” said Gibbs.

“That’s right,” said Dr Zib.

“What can you tell us about him?” asked Gibbs.

“He was admitted after being found wandering near the rail road depot.”

“I’ve told them that, Zib,” said Esmerelda.

“Oh.  Well, let me see,” said the doctor as he looked at the file.  “No broken bones.  Which was something of a miracle.”

“How so?” asked Ellie.

“He was a walking bruise.  Or a graze.  Combination of the two, I guess.”

“What had happened?” asked McGee

“Don’t know.  He had a concussion.  He was very confused and couldn’t remember how he wound up here,” said Dr Zib.

“How long was he here for?” asked Gibbs.

“Two/three days.”

“Which?” asked Gibbs.

“We don’t know.”

“What you mean?  You don’t know?” hissed Gibbs.

“He discharged himself.  Or to be more accurate, he walked out.  Either sometime during the night or early in the morning.  That’s why we don’t know exactly how long he was here for,” said Zib.

“How could he just walk out?” asked Ellie.

“It’s Tony,” said McGee, “It’s what he would do.”

“And what was his condition.  When _you just let him walk out?_ ” asked Gibbs frostily.

“He was responding to treatment.  We had done a CAT scan which didn’t reveal any bleeding in the brain or anything sinister.  He was in some pain from his injuries.  And …”

“And?” asked Gibbs.

“And he still couldn’t remember very much.”

“And you let him go?” asked Gibbs.

“This is a small hospital, Agent …?”

“Gibbs.”

“Agent Gibbs.  The day after Mr Stromboli was brought in we had a school bus crash.  Twenty-three young children were admitted.  Fortunately, none of them were seriously injured but we were swamped for the whole day.  We were not in a position to give intensive attention to a patient who was not in a life threatening situation.  The next day, when we were back to as normal as we ever get here, we were ready to focus on Mr Stromboli but we discovered that he had walked out.  He had signed the hospital forms and left.”

“I want a copy of that medical file sent to NCIS headquarters in DC,” said Gibbs as he stood up.  “McGee, Bishop, we need to get a BOLO out on DiNozzo.  We can’t take the risk that he’s still wandering around with a concussion.”

“What name?” asked McGee.

“What?” said Gibbs.

“DiNozzo or Stromboli?  Which name do you want on the BOLO?”

Gibbs considered for a moment.  “Stromboli.  Seems that’s what his paperwork says.”

“On it, Boss,” said Tim as he started tapping on his phone.

“Er …” said Esmerelda.

“What?” snapped Gibbs.

“Don’t you want to know where he is?” she replied.

“You know where he is?” asked Ellie.

“Why sure.  Dr Allard let us know that he’d shown up as a patient with him,” said Esmerelda.

“Who’s Dr Allard?” asked Tim.

“He runs a family practice the other side of Cedaron.  Says he got called in by George.”

“Who’s George?” asked Ellie, somehow thinking that there must be a quicker way of getting to the truth.

“George Clarke.  Runs a lumber store.  _Cedaron World of Wood_.  Seems that Mr Stromboli had walked into his shop.”

“How did he get there?” asked McGee.

“Guess he walked,” speculated Esmerelda, “Or he might have got into a cab.  Or the bus runs right past the hospital.  Or he …”

“Doesn’t matter how he got there,” interrupted Gibbs.  “We’ll head there now.”

“Uh.  Right.  Yes, Boss,” said McGee as he got up from his chair.  “Thank you for your help, Ms Jones.”

“It was nice to meet you, Dr Zsibiczowkyxowskillymda,” said Ellie.

“I’m impressed,” said the doctor, “People don’t normally manage to pronounce my name.”

Ellie smiled with pleasure, “I used to do a lot of foreign research work.  I got used to different names and I’ve got a real good memory.  I …”

“Bishop!  McGee!  Today!” called Gibbs from the door.

“Coming,” they both said as they hastened to obey.

NCISNCIS

McGee had managed to look up the address and the route to the lumber store before they got to the car and was able to give directions to Gibbs.  Unfortunately, other drivers dared to be on the road at the same time so Gibbs wasn’t able to drive as fast as he wanted but they still pulled up in front of Cedaron World of Wood in an impressively short space of time.

Gibbs strode in the store with McGee and Bishop in his wake.  He was slightly taken aback to find the place was deserted but then his nose picked up the aroma of coffee and he spotted that there was a small café area over to the left where there seemed to be some people.  Gibbs marched in that direction and then stopped when he saw a very familiar figure.

“DiNozzo!” he called.

Tony stiffened as he heard his name called and turned around cautiously.

Gibbs could still remember a time when Kelly had gone missing on the beach.  He had been almost frantic with worry and when his daughter had turned up, his anxiety had spilled over into anger.  The same thing happened now.

“DiNozzo!  What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded.

Tony frowned.  “Who are you?” he asked.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs stared at Tony blankly.  The normally stoic agent would, privately, admit that his emotions were on something of a roller coaster at the moment.  He didn’t really know what he felt about Tony; something had changed when he had been shot and Tony had been sent on the mission to find Budd.  Tony had proved his competence; he had stepped out of Gibbs’ shadow and done well.  And the fair-minded part of Gibbs approved of this but he found that another part of him feared that Tony would no longer want to play second fiddle and would move to another job.  DiNozzo had been part of his life for so long that he found it difficult to contemplate not having him on his six.

Gibbs knew it was perverse but he found himself acting in a way designed to drive Tony away: it was almost as if he wanted to be in control of Tony’s moving on even though it wasn’t really what he wanted.  It had been the same at the hospital.  Gibbs had known that he would get more out of the staff there if he had been reasonable and benign but he found that his anxiety about Tony drove common sense out of his head and turned him into the Captain Ahab Tony had once so deplored.  He was surprised at the depth of his anxiety about Tony.  Until he had disappeared, Gibbs had almost persuaded himself that he didn’t care about his agent anymore but when Vance had broken the news that Tony was missing he knew that he had been deluding himself.

And now, Gibbs had found Tony but nothing was as he expected.  It might have been four weeks since Tony had been admitted to the hospital but he still looked something like the walking bruise described by Dr Zib.  Gibbs could see that Tony was wary but guessed that he had turned around cautiously, partly at least, because he was in pain.

“You know me?” asked Tony in a follow up to his original question.

“Of course we know you,” said McGee seeing that Gibbs was, for the moment, lost for words.

“Good,” said Tony carefully, “But I don’t know who you are.”

“What’s going on here?” asked a white-haired man coming out from behind the coffee bar counter.

“These people say they know me,” said Tony.

The new arrival came and stood protectively next to Tony.  “Who are you?” he asked the new arrivals.

Gibbs was about to demand to know who _he_ was, but decided it would be quicker to answer.  “Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.  NCIS, Navy Criminal Investigative Service,” he announced.  He held up his creds.  He nodded towards the other members of his team, “Special Agents Bishop and McGee,” he added.

“And what do you want with Tony?”

“Who are you?” asked Gibbs.

“George Clarke.  I own this place,” said the white-haired man.  “I’ll ask again.  What do you want with Tony?”

“He’s my agent,” said Gibbs.

“What?” asked Tony.  “I work for Navy Crime Scene Investigation?”

“Uh no,” said McGee.  “Navy Criminal Investigative Service.”

“There’s a difference?” asked Tony.

Gibbs saw that both McGee and Bishop were ready to explain the difference in great detail and moved to forestall their helpfulness.  “Yes,” he said curtly.  “So, tell us how you got here.  And why you’re still here.”

“Tony needs to sit down,” came a voice from the back of the store.

George looked in the direction of the voice and then nodded.  “Let’s all sit down and discuss this,” he said, “Tony’s not so good on his feet yet.”

“I’m fine,” muttered Tony.

Gibbs smiled for the first time at this Tonyness.

“Good to see you, DiNozzo,” he said.

“Is it?” asked Tony before adding a little peevishly, “I’d hate to see what you’re like with someone you didn’t want to see.”

McGee laughed.  He would have liked to pat Tony on the shoulder but didn’t want to hurt him.  Ellie couldn’t resist and gave him a gentle hug.

“Wow,” said Tony, “Thanks, Agent Bishop.”

“Ellie,” said Bishop.

“Ellie,” said Tony.  “Nice name,” and he smiled at her.

Ellie felt something flutter in her stomach.  She held up her left hand to indicate her wedding ring, “Rule 12,” she said.

Tony looked puzzled.  “What’s that?  Some sort of cult?”

“No,” said Ellie.  “What do you mean?”

“I figured that perhaps you were a member of a cult.  Rule 12 – sounds like a group of people living in a desert somewhere, never changing their underwear and eating lots of fibre,” said Tony.

“Rule 12.  Never date a co-worker,” said Bishop.

“Oh, I guess that makes more sense.  Except, what’s wrong with dating a co-worker?”

“Ask Gibbs,” said McGee, not feeling up to a discussion of the rules.

“How many rules are there?” asked Tony as he walked slowly towards a table.

“That’s up for debate,” said Tim, “New ones being added all the time.”

“And there are some duplicates,” said Bishop.

“That seems a little … inefficient,” observed Tony.

“Tell me about it,” said McGee feelingly.

“Enough chitchat,” ordered Gibbs brusquely.

Tony lowered himself into a chair.  “You sure you’re glad to see me?” he asked.  “’Cos you might want to work on that.”

Gibbs gritted his teeth but didn’t rise to Tony’s challenge.  “What happened?  What are you doing here, Tony?”

“I don’t know,” said Tony.  “I woke up in a freight car half full of coal.  When the train stopped, I managed to climb out.  I was sitting by the side of the railroad trying to decide what to do when someone came along and took me to the hospital.”

“And?” prompted Gibbs.

“I was there a couple of days but it turns out that I don’t like hospitals much so I decided to leave.  Walked a while and arrived here.”

“I was in the yard,” said George, “I saw this pitiful specimen …”

“Thanks, George,” said Tony.

“Swaying as if a strong wind would blow him over,” said George, ignoring the interruption.  “Brought him in for a cup of coffee … and well, he hasn’t left yet.”

“Why didn’t you call us?” asked Gibbs.

“Didn’t know who to call,” said George.  “His papers are all in the name of Stromboli but there were no contact details for anyone.  And he didn’t think Stromboli sounded right for him.”

“You could have contacted the police,” said McGee.

“We could have,” agreed George, “But Tony had an idea that he might be in law enforcement.  If he’d ended up like this, perhaps it would be better just to lie low.”

Gibbs shook his head in exasperation.  “But you knew you weren’t Stromboli,” he said.  “You turned around when I said DiNozzo.  You recognised your name.”

“Yes,” agreed Tony.  “But that was the first time I remembered it.  You said it and I knew it was my name.”

“So you remember everything?” said Ellie hopefully.

“No, just my name,” said Tony tiredly.

“You should have stayed at the hospital,” said Gibbs.

“We got the doctor to him,” said George defensively.

“Yeah.  Duck said I didn’t need to be in the hospital,” said Tony.

“Duck?” said all three agents.

“Ducky knew?” said Gibbs incredulously.

“Yes, of course,” said Tony.

“But he didn’t say anything,” said Tim.

“How would he have known who to tell?” asked George.

“He works with us every day,” said Ellie.

“He does?” said George.  “I think there must be some misunderstanding here.  Mark’s been our doctor two years.  He’d have mentioned if he worked for Navy CSI.”

“NCIS,” corrected Tim.

“Who’s Mark?” asked Gibbs.

“Duck,” said Tony.

“It was Tony who spotted it,” said George.  “Two years and I’d never noticed.”

“Noticed what?” asked Gibbs.

“Mark Allard.  Looks like Mallard.  Tony gave him the nickname and it’s sort of stuck.”

“Just be grateful you’re not _Mc_ Clarke,” muttered Tim.  George looked at him quizzically but didn’t ask him what he meant.

“I see,” said Gibbs, pleased to have solved one mystery.

“So he doesn’t work for NCSI?” asked George.

“No,” said Gibbs.

Ellie gave into her urge to be helpful and informative.  “We have a Dr Donald Mallard at _NCIS_.  His nickname is Ducky.”

“You have doctors at NCSI?” asked Tony.

“NCIS,” said Tim.  “Well, sort of.  Ducky is the Medical Examiner.  But he’s really a doctor.  He’s looked after most of us at some time.”

“Guess budgets are tight,” said George thoughtfully.  “Still, would have thought a federal agency could run to a proper doctor for its people.”

Gibbs decided not to get even more distracted. “That doesn’t matter,” he announced.  “Grab your gear, DiNozzo.  We’ll head back to DC.”

“What?” asked Tony.

“You heard me.  No point hanging around.  Grab your gear,” ordered Gibbs.

George seemed to hear some sort of protest from the back of the store.  “It’ll be dark soon,” he said.  “You’re not going to get back today.  Why not wait until tomorrow?”  There was another murmur from the back.  “Seems to me we should check with Dr Duck before Tony travels.”

Gibbs was about to override this but Tony got in first, “Hate to be a party pooper but I need to go lie down.”

“Another headache?” asked George.

Tony nodded.  “Too much excitement, I guess,” he said.

Gibbs looked at Tony and saw that he looked pale and tired.  “Go on,” he said, “Go lie down.  We’ll figure things out later.”

Tony didn’t risk nodding this time but got up slowly and walked towards the back area.  Gibbs thought he saw someone standing there waiting to help him.  George also watched him go and Gibbs suppressed a smile at the thought that Tony had found people to look after him.

“Hotel down the road isn’t bad,” said George.  “It’s only a small town so there’s not many places.”

“OK,” said Gibbs peaceably.  He felt a little more settled now that he had Tony within reach.  “Any chance of a coffee?”

“Course.  Let me guess, strong and black?”

Gibbs sent McGee and Bishop off to report back to NCIS and find them somewhere to stay for the night.

“Dr Duck will be by tomorrow,” said George.  “He’ll take a look at Tony.”

“Tell me what happened,” invited Gibbs as he took a sip of his drink.

“Not much more to tell.  He walked in here one day.  Thought he was going to collapse on the floor.  We put him in a chair, gave him something to drink and called Dr Duck.”

“What did he say?”

“That Tony needed to rest.  He called the hospital.  They told him that they’d done scans and that Tony had a bad concussion but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage.”

“Apart from not remembering anything,” said Gibbs drily.

“He could remember some things.  He thought his name was Tony.  He was puzzled that the last name was Stromboli, didn’t think that was right.  He could remember being in law enforcement in Peoria and Baltimore.  And somewhere else too …”

“Philly,” supplied Gibbs.

“That’s right.”

“But not NCIS?”

“No.  ‘Fraid not.  How long has he worked for you?”

“Fifteen years, give or take.”

“That explains it.  We worked out that was how much he’d lost – went back over Super Bowls to see which he could remember. “

“Sounds about right,” grinned Gibbs.

“What happened to him, Agent Gibbs?”

“Don’t know, Mr Clarke …”

“Call me George.  IRS are the only people who call me Mr Clarke.”

“George.  We don’t know.  He was on an assignment and he went missing.  We looked for him but couldn’t find him.  First sign was when the hospital put in a claim on his medical insurance this morning.”

“You got here from DC that quick?”

“NCIS can move when it needs to,” said Gibbs smugly.

“You care about Tony, don’t you?” asked George.

“He’s a good agent,” said Gibbs noncommittally.

“OK,” said George deciding not to probe.

“You said ‘we’,” said Gibbs.

“When?”

“Just now.  You said that ‘we’ put him in a chair.”

“Oh.  You’re sharp, I’ll give you that.  My sister, Celia.  She runs this place with me.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s … shy.  Keeps out of the way.”

Gibbs felt like asking how she could help run the store if she wouldn’t meet people but realised it was none of his business.  George sensed the unasked questions and added,

“She took a shine to your man.  He smiled at her.”

“That’d do it,” said Gibbs ruefully.

“When the doc said Tony needed rest and looking after.  Well, Celia said we’d do it.  Didn’t want to send him to a hotel, not the way he was.”

“Thank you,” said Gibbs.

“No need to thank me, Agent Gibbs.  He’s been real entertaining …”

“But?” prompted Gibbs.

“But I could tell he was worried.  Can’t imagine how frightening it must be to find you’ve lost fifteen years of your life but he put a brave face on it.”

Gibbs nodded, deciding not to share his own experience of amnesia with Tony’s new friend.

“Tony might not remember who he is but he’s acting like he always does.  He tends to hide behind the face of a clown,” said Gibbs.

“I guess,” said George.

“Do you know why he came in here?” asked Gibbs.

“He says he smelt the wood.  Said it was a smell he liked.  Made him feel safe,” said George.

Gibbs felt an unexpected sense of warmth at George’s words but he didn’t say anything.

“Looks like your people want to speak to you,” said George as he saw McGee and Bishop coming back into the store.  “I’ll go see how Tony’s going.”

“Boss,” said McGee, “We’re booked into the place Mr Clarke recommended.”

“And we were thinking,” continued Ellie, “… which, of course is what we’re paid to do.”

Gibbs stared and waited silently to find out what they had been thinking about.

“Er … Tony said he woke up in a freight train.  So we wondered …” began McGee.

“If he’d got into it in DC,” said Ellie.

Gibbs nodded but still said nothing.

“So we thought we could look at security camera footage from freight lines,” said Tim.

“Good idea,” said Gibbs at last.

“But …” said Ellie.

“But we can’t do it from here.  So we asked Abby if she could do it from her lab,” said Tim.

“And?” asked Gibbs.

“And she got real excited,” said Ellie, “And …”

“And she wants to come up here?” concluded Gibbs.

“Uh, yes.  Sorry, Boss,” said Tim.

“What did you tell her?” asked Gibbs.

“That she should call you,” said Ellie.  Gibbs’ phone sounded.  “That’s probably her now.”

“Ya think?” said Gibbs.  “Yeah, Abs.  He’s fine.  No, he doesn’t remember us.  I don’t know what we’re doing yet.  Seeing his doctor tomorrow.  Wait until then.  I will.  No, I won’t,” he ended the call.  He looked at his agents, “Yes, I’ll tell Tony that Abby sent her love.  No, I won’t give him a hug from her.”

Tim nodded.  “She coming up?”

“No point.  We don’t know how long we’ll be here.  We’ll wait and see,” said Gibbs.

“Boss?”

“Yes, McGee?”

“You do know you won’t actually be able to hold Abby off for more than a day, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know.  I know.”

Gibbs took another sip of his coffee and considered the DiNozzo situation.  He should have guessed that finding Tony would not be the end of the problem.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dr Allard was one of those doctors who made even McGee or Bishop feel old.  He was fresh-faced, young and enthusiastic.  Gibbs thought he probably didn’t get to deal with many ‘interesting’ patients like Tony.  He arrived early next morning and found Gibbs, Bishop and McGee having their first coffees of the morning.  Tony was sitting with them but nursing a glass of juice rather than coffee.  George had already begun to realise that he might need to lay in extra supplies if Tony’s newfound co-workers stuck around.

Tony had dressed but seemed to have forgotten to brush his hair which was sticking up impressively.  He waved a hand in the doctor’s direction,

“Hey,” he said, “We’ve got visitors.”

“So George told me,” said Dr Allard.  “We OK out here or do you want to go somewhere more private?”

“Out here’s fine,” said Tony, “So long as you don’t want me to get naked.  I’m guessing these guys are spies … or have spy-like tendencies … so they’ll find out what you say anyways.”

Dr Allard bristled, ready to defend patient confidentiality to the death if need be.  “They won’t hear it from me,” he vowed.

“It’s OK, Duck,” said Tony, “I think they’re the good guys.”

“If you’re sure?” said the doctor.  Tony nodded.  “OK, so how do you feel today?”  He took a penlight out and shone it into Tony’s eyes.

“Better,” said Tony.

“He had a headache yesterday,” said George and Gibbs in unison.

“Apart from a headache,” amended Tony.

“What about the memory?” asked Allard.

“I know my name is DiNozzo,” offered Tony.

“You remembered?”

“Sort of.  Agent Gibbs shouted it at me.  And it registered,” said Tony.

“Anything else?” asked Allard.

Tony shook his head.  “That’s it.”

“I think it’s like I said before, Tony.  It’ll take time.  Agent Gibbs, could you give me the name of Tony’s physician?  I’d like some details of his medical history.”

“Apparently you’ll have to ask Ducky,” said Tony.

Allard looked confused.  Gibbs frowned as he realised that this forgetful Tony still liked to make mischief.

“Our medical examiner is Donald Mallard.  He has the nickname Ducky,” Gibbs explained.  “He’ll be able to get you the information you want.”

“The _medical examiner_ knows your medical history?” asked Allard incredulously.

“I think they believe in multi-tasking at Navy CSI,” said Tony, “They probably have a rule about it.”  He smiled sweetly at Gibbs.

“Shut it, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs deciding he didn’t want Tony distracting Dr Allard.  “Though I’m not sure you’ll need the medical information,” he continued.  “We’ll be taking Tony back to DC.”

“I can’t allow that,” said Allard.

Gibbs stiffened, “You can’t _allow_ it?” he asked dangerously.

Allard stood firm.  “Tony is still far from well.  A long journey would be most inadvisable.”

“And you’d be mopping up a lot of puke,” said Tony.  “I seem to remember I get carsick at the best of times … and let’s just say that now is not my best of times.”

“Tony’s had concussions before,” said McGee helpfully, “He hasn’t taken that long to recover before.”

“He’s had concussions before?” asked Allard in sudden alarm.

“Lots,” said McGee.  “But he only had memory problems once.”

“He had memory problems?”

“He only lost a few weeks,” said Gibbs.  “And they came back.”

“Nevertheless,” said Allard, “I will need to see any scans that were taken.  We will need to check them against the scans the hospital took.”

“OK,” said Gibbs, “I’ll get everything sent to you.  Were there any breathing difficulties?”

“I can breathe just fine,” said Tony.

“No problems that I’ve noticed,” said Allard warily.  “Why?  Were you expecting them?”

“He had plague a few years back,” said Gibbs.

“Pneumonic,” said Tim with relish.

“Pneumonic?” said Allard faintly.

“And it’d probably be a good idea for you to know about the loopiness,” said Ellie.

“Loopiness?” asked both Tony and the doctor.

“Oh,” said Ellie, “Not mad loopiness but drug loopiness.”

“You’re not helping here, Agent Bishop,” said Tony.

“She means that when you’re on drugs you get loopy,” said Tim.

“I take drugs?” asked an aghast Tony.  “And Navy CSI keep me on the books?”

“NCIS,” corrected Tim.

“They mean that when you’re _prescribed_ medication you sometimes have an adverse reaction.  Especially to painkillers,” said Gibbs with carefully controlled patience.  “And no, we don’t keep drug addicts _on the books_ at the _Navy Criminal Investigative Service._ ”

“We definitely need details of all this,” said Allard.  “I’ll arrange a consult with Dr Zib at the hospital.”

“I need some fresh air,” said Tony who looked overwhelmed from the conversations.  He got up, swayed a little but waved away the looks of concern.  “I’ll just go to the park.  Back in twenty,” he promised.

Gibbs looked as if he wanted to protest but George said, “He goes every morning and every afternoon, Agent Gibbs.  He needs to move around some and the fresh air is good for him.”

Gibbs nodded but also jerked his head in Tim’s direction.  Tim picked up the instruction and hastened to follow Tony.

McGee found Tony sitting on a park bench and frowning as he gazed at a sculpture of a man with a stovepipe hat and surrounded by children holding books.  Tony looked up as he saw McGee approach and then take a seat next to him.  He wiped the frown from his face and smiled,

“Agent McGoo,” he said, “What a surprise.”

“It’s McGee,” said Tim.

“Oh.  I thought it was McGee.  My bad.  Sorry,” said Tony.

“It’s OK.  I’m used to it,” said Tim.

“Other people get your name wrong?” asked Tony.  “I mean, I’m used to people getting my name wrong but I’d have thought McGee was straightforward.”

“Not other people.  Just you,” said Tim.  “You like to change my name.”

“I do?  What do I change it to?”

“McGeek, McGoogle, McNerd, McGiggle … you’re very inventive.”

“Wow.”

“And then there’s Probalicious, Probie wan Kenobi …”

“Those don’t have Mc in front of them,” observed Tony.

“No.  Those are because I used to be the probationary agent on the team,” said Tim.  “You had fun with that too.”

“I can imagine,” said Tony thoughtfully.  “And I kinda like the mcnicknames …”

Tim looked at Tony in horror and, for a moment, wondered if it would be like something out of a Sci-Fi movie with some sort of time/space disruption.  Had Tim inadvertently set Tony off on the mcnicknames?  Tim shook his head as he reminded himself that Tony had definitely started the nicknames off first.

“You OK there, Mc ...?” asked Tony in concern.

“Yeah.  I’m fine.  Just had an awful thought.  And Tim is fine,” said McGee.

“And I don’t mangle that?” asked Tony.

“Don’t think so,” said McGee.

“Hmm,” said Tony, “I wonder why.  I’d have thought there was scope.  You could be ‘Tim gone for a burton’ or ‘tiny Tim’ or there’s a timothy called bottoms …”

“I guess you were distracted by the other possibilities,” said McGee trying to decide whether to be relieved Tony had never got to the Tims or fearful that he would now direct his fertile imagination to this new option.

“I suppose,” said Tony.  “How long have we worked together, Tim?”

“Ten, eleven years,” said Tim.

“Good years?” asked Tony.

“Mostly,” said Tim.  “Bad things have happened but we got through them.”

“Is this a bad thing?” asked Tony.

“Not now we found you,” said Tim.  “It was bad when we lost you but now … well, I figure the worst is over.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Tony, “You haven’t lost fifteen years.”

“I know,” said Tim, “I can’t begin to imagine …”

“I mean,” said Tony, “Just think of how many great movies I’ve missed!”

Tim turned to look at Tony for a few moments but then decided to let Tony set the mood, “Well, after listening to your movie reviews all these years, I’d say there’s a lot of stinkers you’ve forgotten as well!”

“Good one,” said Tony approvingly.  “I can see you’re a glass half-full sort of guy.  I like that.”

Tim grinned but didn’t say anything.  Tony pointed to the sculpture.

“That’s Emerson George Clarke.  One of the founding fathers of this place.  They wanted to name the town after him but he wouldn’t let them.  Said Cedaron was good enough.”

“Any relation to Mr Clarke?”

“Great, great, great something grandfather,” said Tony.  “The sculpture commemorates the good works Emerson did, including establishing a school for all the town’s children.  Imagine that.”

“Imagine what?”

“Imagine having a great, great something granddaddy that everyone was proud of.  Living in the place he set up.  That would be something to live up to, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess,” agreed Tim.

“Don’t think anyone would set up a monument to a DiNozzo,” said Tony.

“Hmm,” said Tim.

“From the tone of your _hmm_ , I’d say that you’ve met my father,” said Tony.

“He’s turned up at the office a few times,” said Tim cautiously.

“He has?  He never turned up where I worked before.”

“Um, I think you and he have been working on things,” said Tim.

“Huh.  Does he know about me being missing?”

“No.  We tried,” said Tim, “But he’s gone off on …”

“A money making expedition,” said Tony in a resigned voice.  “He always goes off the grid when he’s drumming up ‘business’.”

Tim didn’t know how to answer that so kept silent.  Tony returned his gaze to Emerson and then changed the subject once more, “Why’d you follow me, McS … damn, those nicknames are addictive!”

“You kidding?” asked McGee.  “With that hair?  It was for your own safety!  You’re liable to be arrested for something.”

Tony laughed but then hastily tried to flatten his hair.  “We’d better be going back.  Don’t want to be reported missing again!”

“I missed you, Tony,” Tim blurted out, anxious he might not get another chance to speak to Tony privately. 

“Despite the nicknames?” asked Tony.

“Yes.  I even missed them.  You’re a good agent, Tony and you were good for me.”

“Thanks, Tim,” said Tony.

“Unorthodox, annoying and talkative,” continued Tim, “But good.”

“Thanks again, I think.”

Tony and Tim made their slow way back to Cedaron World of Wood.

“It’s a big name for a lumber store,” observed Tim.

“It’s more than a lumber store,” said Tony.

“Oh, sure.  There’s the coffee bar as well,” conceded Tim.

“There’s a museum off the shop.  And an adventure playground behind that.  And trails you can follow in the forest.  Couple cabins further in.  There’s a lot going on.  George is a businessman,” said Tony informatively.

“Wait till Gibbs finds out,” said Tim, “We’ll never tear him away.”

“How so?” asked Tony.

Tim thought this was probably the clearest evidence yet that Tony had lost his memory.  The thought of anyone who knew Gibbs not knowing about the woodworking was almost unthinkable.  “Uh, Gibbs does a lot of woodwork.”

“He does?”

“Yep.  Even builds boats in his basement,” said Tim.

“Model boats?”

“Nope.  Full size ones.”

“How does he get them out?”

“Nobody knows,” said Tim.  “But he does.  He gave one to his goddaughter in Mexico.  And then it turned up in San Diego with two bodies in it.”

Tony turned puzzled eyes on Tim.  “And you wonder why I’ve lost my memory?  How could it cope with remembering things like that?  Even if I did remember that, I wouldn’t believe it.”

NCISNCIS

Ellie had news when Tim and Tony returned. 

“Abby got a hit on the freight train idea,” she announced.

“Our forensic scientist,” said Ellie.

“She’s a Goth,” explained Tim.

“Of course she is,” said Tony in a resigned tone.

Gibbs grinned and carried on drinking his coffee.

“What was the idea?” asked Tony.

“We didn’t know where you’d gone missing,” said Tim.  “But when you said you woke up in a freight car we wondered if there might be something on a security camera around some of the railroad depots.  So we got Abby looking.”

“And she found something,” said Ellie.  “She just emailed us the links.  Look!”  She swivelled the laptop so Tony could see.  “She thinks she can enhance the picture,” Bishop added when she saw Tony squint.

“She can do that?” asked Tony.

“Abby can do pretty much anything,” said Tim with pride.

“She’s awesome,” confirmed Ellie.

Tony frowned as he watched the pictures.  He saw a shadowy figure staggering along a rail bridge and then looking back in alarm as two more figures approached.  As they watched, they saw the first person look around desperately and then throw himself off the bridge as a train went underneath.  His pursuers ran up to the spot from where he had jumped but were too late to stop him.  They ran off away from the cameras.

“Is that DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs.

“Abby thinks so,” said Ellie, “Height and weight are right.  And the timing’s about right.  Tony arrived here about three days after his last contact with the Director.  We reckon that’s how long the freight train might take.”

“You remember any of this, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs.

Tony shook his head.  “And that had to have hurt,” he commented, “Not wishing to make your investigation difficult but I’m sort of glad I don’t remember.”

“Looks as if you were already hurt,” observed Tim, “You weren’t running straight.”

“Duck thought I’d probably been beaten up a little,” said Tony.

“A _little_?” said Gibbs.  “Dr Zib said you were a walking bruise.”                   

“I guess,” said Tony, “And I don’t think jumping from a bridge helped much.”

“I reckon you’d have been in even worse shape if those two had caught you,” said Tim.

“We find out who they are?” asked Gibbs.

“Abby’s on it,” said Ellie.  “She’s checking other cameras for two guys walking along.  She’ll let us know.”

“OK,” said Gibbs, “Work on that.”

“Um, sure,” said McGee, “We’ll go back to the hotel.”  He nodded significantly at Bishop who stared at him blankly for a moment or two before realising that she and Tim were being got rid of.

“Right,” she said.  “I’ll just take one of these muffins to go.  I love salted caramel!”

Tony watched them go.  “Where does she put it all?” he asked.

“Don’t ask me,” said Gibbs.  “She food associates.”

“What?”

“Certain foods bring back memories for her.”

“Huh.  I guess I do that with smells,” said Tony.

Gibbs smiled indulgently as he remembered George’s comment about Tony saying that the smell of wood made him feel safe.  “Is that so?” he said.

“Yeah.  Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?  Nonno DiNozzo.  Nonno Joe, I used to call him.  Although his name was actually Giuseppe.  Anyway, Nonno Joe was high up in his father’s transportation company but his hobby was carpentry.”  Gibbs froze.  “He had a workshop at the back of his house.  I used to love it in there.  He always had time for me, never lost his temper even though it turned out I was rubbish at woodwork.  I’ve always liked the smell of wood shavings.”

“Really,” said Gibbs.

“Good memories,” said Tony.  “And, at the moment, I have to say that I’m holding on to all the memories I can.  They feel even more important.”  He smiled at Gibbs and his Boss felt sad: it was the smile that Tony used on people he didn’t know and it felt strange for Gibbs to have it directed at him.  “So, where did we meet?” asked Tony.

“Baltimore.”

“On a case?”

“Yep.  I punched you and you drew a gun on me and arrested me.”

“And you hired me?  After that?”

“It was a good takedown,” said Gibbs.

“You understand, Agent Gibbs, that I don’t remember you but you don’t strike me as the sort of person who would hire a person like me.”

“Why’s that?”

“You seem … buttoned up, stiff and I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as buttoned up and stiff.  Unless I’ve changed?”

“No, you haven’t changed.  Well, not much,” said Gibbs.

“So, it doesn’t seem very likely that you and I would gel,” said Tony.

“Sometimes opposites attract,” shrugged Gibbs.

“How long did I stay at Baltimore?”

“About two years.  A little less.”

“Huh.  I liked Baltimore.  Wouldn’t have figured on leaving so quick.  I had a great partner.  Danny and me worked well.  Don’t know how you would have persuaded me to leave all that.”

“You wanted to leave.  Didn’t have to persuade you,” said Gibbs.

“Oh.  Then why did I quit?”

“You had some … issues with your partner.  Danny Price.”

“What sort of issues?” asked Tony.  “Oh, God.  He’s not dead, is he?”

“Yes,” said Gibbs.

“How’d he die?”

“He was murdered.  Some years after you left.  NCIS investigated it.”

There was a stricken silence and then Tony wiped moisture from his eyes.  “Tell me you caught whoever did it,” he said.

“Yeah, we caught him.  Thanks to you.”

“Was it one of the people we took down?” asked Tony.

“No,” said Gibbs reluctantly, “It was your Boss.  Major Frank Raimey,”

“What?” said Tony in disbelief.  “Why?”

“Danny Price was a dirty cop,” said Gibbs.  “It was all tied up with that.  That’s why you left Baltimore.  You couldn’t work with him anymore.”

Tony struggled for control of his feelings and tried for a light note, “Guess I should be glad to have lost some of those memories!”

“Maybe,” agreed Gibbs.  He looked up and saw George approaching.

“Everything OK here?” asked George.

“Just peachy,” said Tony.  “Agent Gibbs has been filling me in on what I’ve been doing the last fifteen years.  It’s been a blast.”

“Tony?” said George in a concerned voice.

“Scuse me,” said Tony.  “I think I need to go lie down.”  He pushed his chair back and hobbled away as fast as he could.

“What was that about?” asked George.

“Fifteen years,” said Gibbs, “It wasn’t all sweetness and light.”

“So you filled him in on some of the bad stuff?”

“He asked how we met,” said Gibbs.

“And that was bad?”

“Nope, but there was some bad stuff around it.”

“And you couldn’t think of a way of not telling him about that?  You’re a bright man, Agent Gibbs.  I’m sure you could’ve found a way around it,” said George.

“I don’t lie.  And I thought a shock might help his memory,” said Gibbs.

“I’m sure you’re excellent at your job, Agent Gibbs,” said George stiffly, “But it seems to me you’ve got a way to go in the charm stakes.  Tony’s vulnerable at the moment.  He doesn’t need your shocks.”

“DiNozzo isn’t weak,” said Gibbs.

“Didn’t say he was.  I said he was vulnerable.  He’s being _strong_ all the time.  I don’t know him well but I reckon he’s on the verge of panic … I don’t think your shock tactics are going to work.  Apart from being cruel,” said George.

“I know Tony better than you,” said Gibbs.

“Not denying that.  But the Tony in front of you here is not the Tony you know.  Haven’t you noticed how he’s always frowning until he realises someone’s watching him?  Then he smiles.”

Gibbs and George stared at each other but there was nothing to say, they had reached an impasse.  In the end, Gibbs picked up his coffee and went for a walk hoping that fresh air and exercise might clear his head and give him a better handle on what to do about Tony.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony didn’t emerge from his room until late afternoon.  It didn’t look as if he rested well but his co-workers, sensing that something had happened, did not question him on his pallor.  Gibbs seemed to sit up even more upright than usual.

“What you got?” Gibbs demanded.

“Abby’s still looking at the security footage,” said Bishop, “Last we heard she hadn’t found anything.”  She encountered Gibbs’ glare.  “And I’ll check with her again …”

“Abby would have let us know if she’d found anything,” said McGee, “… but it’s a good idea to check.  I left a message for Ducky asking him to send Tony’s medical records.  Haven’t heard back yet … and I’ll phone now …”

“Went to voicemail,” announced Bishop.

“Ducky too,” said McGee.

Before Gibbs could comment there was a screech from the doorway,

“Surprise!  I couldn’t wait,” squealed Abby.

“And I thought it wise to accompany her,” said Ducky, “And I wanted to talk to Anthony’s doctor in person.”

Bishop, McGee and Gibbs shrugged philosophically at their co-workers’ arrival but Tony’s eyes widened in something like alarm as Abby raced towards him with outstretched arms,

“To-nee!  I’ve missed you!  I was so worried about you,” said Abby.

Unsurprisingly, Gibbs reacted fastest and managed to intercept Abby before she could hug Tony.

“Gently,” he admonished.  “Tony doesn’t remember who you are.”

“You don’t?” said Abby, peering at Tony over Gibbs’ shoulder.

“’Fraid not,” said Tony, feeling a little more in charity with Gibbs for rescuing him.

“And he’s not really up to a hug,” continued Gibbs.

“I should say not,” said Ducky, “You really are a walking bruise, my boy.”

Tony raised an eyebrow in query.

Tim supplied the introductions, “This is Abby.  And this Dr Mallard – Ducky.”

“It is a great relief and pleasure to see you, Anthony,” said Ducky, “Although I wish it were under better circumstances.  How are you feeling?”

“Like a walking bruise,” smiled Tony, “And I’m pleased to meet you, Dr Mallard.”

“Ducky, please,” said Ducky.  “I trust you will allow me to examine you?”

Tony didn’t look thrilled at the prospect.  “Aren’t you the Medical Examiner?”

“Yes, indeed I am.”

“Isn’t that a dead person doctor?” asked Tony.

“I assure I am fully qualified and licensed to practise as a physician,” said Ducky, “And although, unfortunately, you do not remember at the moment I have often treated you for injuries or ailments.  You have honoured me with your trust in the past and I hope you will continue to do so.”

Abby vibrated a little, “Could I give you just a _little_ hug?” she pleaded, “I promise to be gentle.  Pinkie promise.”

Tony didn’t know Abby but he wasn’t proof against her big imploring eyes.  “Sure,” he said.

Abby tiptoed up to Tony and gave him the gentlest of embraces.  “It’s so good to see you,” she murmured into his hair.

Five seconds later, when she was still holding on to him, Gibbs walked over and disentangled her arms from his neck.  “That’s enough, Abs,” he said.

“We brought you some clothes and other items from your apartment,” said Ducky.  “It occurred to me that you probably only had the clothes in which you disappeared.  I thought that some of your own clothes might trigger some memories for you,”

“Thank you, Dr Mallard … I mean, Ducky,” said Tony as he took the duffel that Ducky held out to him.

“We didn’t bring any of your suits,” said Abby, “We figured you wouldn’t need them right now.”

“I have suits?” asked Tony.

“Oh, yes,” said Abby earnestly.

“How many?” asked Tony faintly.

“Dozens,” said Abby.

“Dozens?”

“Well,” temporised Abby, “Twenty.”

“I have twenty suits?” said Tony.  “Why?”

“We’d all like to know that, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs drily.

“You like clothes,” said Ellie.

“I do?” asked Tony.

“Oh yeah,” said McGee.  “You really do.”

Tony looked bewildered.  So much seemed to have changed in the fifteen years he had lost.

“You get anywhere with your security footage search?” asked Gibbs.

“Just before I left DC I found some pictures of two men walking near the railroad.  I’ve been running facial recognition on my computer.  Let me check to see if I got any hits,” said Abby.  She got her laptop out and switched it on.  “No, nothing yet,” she said, “But it’s still running.”

“Where are you staying?” asked Gibbs.

“We have booked into the same hotel as you, Jethro,” said Ducky.  “And where is Anthony staying?”

“Here,” said Tony.  “George and Celia have given me a room.   And lent me some clothes.”  He looked up and saw George coming from the back of the store, “Oh, hey, here’s George now.  George, this is Dr Mallard and Abby …?”

“Scuito,” supplied Abby, “Abby Scuito.”

“Dr Mallard, Abby – this is George Clarke,” said Tony.

“Delighted to meet you, Mr Clarke,” said Ducky.

“And you,” said George, “So, you’re the other Duck.”

“Excuse me?” said Ducky.

“Tony’s doctor here is Dr Mark Allard,” explained Ellie, “Tony gave him the name Duck.”

“How fascinating,” said Ducky, “I look forward to meeting him.”

George smiled a little warily at Abby who looked like someone outside his experience.

“Do you have CafPow in your café?” she asked.

“Caf what?” asked George.

“CafPow.  It’s a drink.  I’m … fond of it and it’s been a while since I had any.”

“I don’t think so,” said George, “We have cola.  Or root beer.  Oh, and some Red Bull.  Will any of those do?”

“Totally,” said Abby happily, “But you should really think of getting CafPow.  I’m sure it would be popular.”

George observed how Abby was still vibrating and resolved not to introduce CafPow to the unsuspecting citizens of Cedaron.  “Sure,” he said politely.

“Is it time to eat?” asked Ellie a little plaintively.

“A splendid idea, Eleanor,” said Ducky, “I never enjoy eating on planes and am more than ready for some sustenance.”

“There’s a diner down the road,” suggested Tim, “We ate there last night.  Or perhaps we could order some takeout?  If Mr Clarke doesn’t mind us eating here?”

“George,” corrected George, “And you’re more than welcome to stay.  More room than at Wilma’s place.”

Gibbs would have preferred to take DiNozzo somewhere else but he could see that Tony was looking a little overwhelmed by the new arrivals and might prefer staying in, what to him, were familiar surroundings.  “OK,” he agreed.  “We’ll eat here.”

“I got some takeout menus,” offered Tony.  “The pizza place is good.”

“Sounds as if your taste buds haven’t lost their memory,” said Gibbs drily, “Pepperoni, sausage …”

“And extra cheese,” finished Tony.  “You know it’s a little creepy that you even know my favourite pizza and I barely know your name.”

“You eat a lot of pizza,” said Tim earnestly.

“And you get real mad if we get the order wrong,” said Ellie.

“So, in fifteen years, I’ve started wearing suits but still like the same pizza?” said Tony.

“You’re an enigma, Tony,” said Gibbs drily. 

Tony frowned at this but didn’t reply directly.  “Well, seeing as you all seem to know what I like to eat, why don’t you order? I think I’ll go see what Dr Mallard and Abby brought me to wear.”

The MCRT looked up hopefully a little later when Tony emerged wearing familiar jeans and a sweater.  Tony guessed their unasked question, “Nope, the clothes didn’t make me remember.  They’re nice, though.  I could get a taste for them.  He ran a hand along his arm, “Very soft,” he said appreciatively.

Abby swallowed down her disappointment but brought out her iPad.  “I’ve got lots of pictures to show you,” she said.  “They might help.”

Ducky spotted a look of something like panic in Tony’s eyes, “Why don’t we wait until we’ve eaten, Abby?” he suggested.  “No need to bombard Anthony on an empty stomach.”

Abby looked as if she might argue but the food arrived at that moment and everyone’s attention was diverted to more important matters.  Despite Tony’s happiness at seeing the pizza arrive, he soon started to flag and only managed a couple of slices.  Abby took the opportunity to start showing the photos.  There were pictures of Tony at his desk, in the field and with other members of the team both at work and in bars and clubs.  The pictures meant nothing to Tony but they brought back memories for other members of the team who began to reminisce about when they had been taken.

“And this is my Tony wall,” said Abby, “I had to resurrect it.”

Tony looked a little blankly at a picture of a wall covered with photos of himself.

“Why did you have to resurrect it?” he asked.

“When you went missing,” said Abby, “It helped me remember you.”

“Did I go missing before?” asked Tony.  “It sounds as if you had one before.”

“You weren’t exactly missing,” said Abby, “You were assigned as Agent Afloat.”

“Agent Afloat?  You mean on a boat?” asked Tony.

“Ship,” said Gibbs, McGee and Ellie together.

“Ship,” conceded Tony.  “I was on a ship?”

“Where else do you think you’d be an agent _afloat_?” asked Gibbs.

“I guess.  But agent afloat?  I’m not sure I even like boats.  I mean ships,” said Tony shaking his head.

“You investigate the navy,” said Gibbs, “Hard to avoid them.”

Tony rubbed his temples as he tried to come to terms with another conundrum.

 “Headache?” asked George.

“Yeah, not too bad though,” said Tony.

Abby vibrated a little more.  “I brought some lavender oil, and some bergamot and peppermint,” she said, “They’ll real good for headaches.  You can massage them in or sniff them.  I’ll show you what to do …”

“No!  Thank you,” said Tony, “I’m sensitive to smells.  They’re making me nauseous at the moment.”

“Oh,” said Abby, disappointed.  “Or I’ve got some gentle music.  Panpipes.  Or whale music.  It’s very soothing.  That’ll help.  Or I could give you a massage.  I’ve got healing hands.”

“Who says?” asked McGee in surprise.

“Lots of people,” said Abby firmly, “The nuns love it when I give them a massage.  It relaxes them, especially when we’ve got a tough game.”

“You play with nuns?” asked Tony.

“Bowling,” said Abby.

“Bowling nuns?” queried Tony.

“You should see their uniforms,” said Ellie.

Tony groaned.

“Are you all right?” said Abby anxiously.

“I’m beginning to think I’m more ‘all right’ than any of you,” said Tony.  Gibbs laughed and Tony grinned in response.  “But I need to go lie down.  And noise … I mean music … won’t help.  I just need quiet … and darkness.”

Abby looked as if she was trying to think of other ways to help but Ducky spoke before she could make any more suggestions.  “Off you go, my boy.  Do you wish me to give you a painkiller?  I made sure to bring some which I know you do not have an adverse reaction to.”

“Thanks, Dr Mallard … Ducky.  It’s more nausea than pain.  Lying down usually makes it go away,” said Tony.

“If you are sure.  Don’t hesitate to contact me if you change your mind,” said Ducky.

“I’m fine,” said Tony trying not to sound impatient.  “I’ll see you all in the morning.”  He walked away as quickly as he could.

Ducky saw Gibbs frowning, “It must be overwhelming for him, Jethro.  He is still suffering the aftereffects of his injuries and to be surrounded by people who all know more about him than he does himself must be very … trying.  We need to be patient and trust that time will be the healer.”

“Guess so, Duck,” said Gibbs.  “We’re more used to doing than waiting.”

“Ah.  I fear this is not a situation which your team’s undoubted skills can ameliorate,” said Ducky.

“OK.  We’ll hit the rack.  Let George have his place back,” said Gibbs.

George watched as Gibbs strode out with his team in his wake but he wondered if they would all obey Gibbs and go to bed so early.  He sighed as he wondered what would have happened if Tony hadn’t been drawn in by the smell of wood.

NCISNCIS

Ducky was the first to arrive at the World of Wood the next morning.  He saw Tony sitting at one of the café’s table with a woman; they seemed to be deep in conversation but she quickly got up and left when she saw the doctor coming in.

“Good morning, Anthony,” said Ducky, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your tête-à-tête.”

“Oh.  Good morning, Dr … Ducky.  No worries, that was Celia.  She doesn’t care much for people she doesn’t know.”

“She seems to like you,” observed Ducky.

“Is that unusual?” asked Tony.

“By no means.  I didn’t mean to imply that people don’t like you,” said Ducky. 

“’Cos so much else seems to have changed in the last fifteen years that I wondered if I’d lost my touch.  People didn’t used to hate me on sight,” said Tony.

“And they don’t now,” Ducky assured him.  “I just meant that Celia hasn’t had long to get to know you.  I didn’t mean anything else.”

“Sorry, Ducky.  I’m a little jumpy, I guess.”

“That is quite understandable, Anthony.  I assure you that I understand that your situation must seem rather overwhelming.”

“Thanks, Ducky.”

“And now, may I ask how you are feeling this morning?”

“I’m fine.  Like I said, lying down usually makes me feel better.”

“I don’t wish to intrude,” said Ducky gently, “But I wonder if you would agree to my examining you?  Although there seems to be some scepticism, I can assure you that I am a skilled physician and one, moreover, who is well acquainted with your medical history.  I think my insight could be valuable.  But I will not insist.  It is entirely up to you.  I suspect that you do not feel in control of much at the moment but I promise that this decision is up to you.”

“Don’t let Agent Gibbs hear you,” said Tony.  “He gives me the impression of someone who deals in orders rather than requests.”

“You can leave Jethro to me,” said Ducky serenely.

“If I let you check me over, will you do something for me?” asked Tony.

“Happily.  If it is something within my capabilities.”

“Tell me about Agent Gibbs.  How we work together,” said Tony.

“Why?”

“I don’t get it.  Agent Gibbs is … seems … blunt …”

“Indeed, Jethro is most forthright,” said Ducky.

“And I figure that I’ve changed over the years but I reckon I’m not so blunt.”

“You are correct.  You have changed since I first knew you but fundamentally you are the same young man whom I met when you first joined the agency.”

“Agent Gibbs said that opposites attract,” said Tony.

“So you have already broached this subject with him?” asked Ducky.

“I tried.  We were talking about Baltimore but we got side-tracked.”

“How so?”

“He told me about Danny.  And my former Boss.”

“Ah.  Yes, I can see that might have taken you _off course_ to some degree.”

“I guess I’ve got over it _in your time_ but in my memory it’s new and fresh,” said Tony.

“Of course it is,” said Ducky. 

“I think Agent Gibbs almost thought the shock of telling me would bring my memory back,” said Tony.

“Indeed?” said Ducky disapprovingly.

“Although, to be fair, I did bring it up,” said Tony.  “Asked how we met.  Said I was surprised I’d left Baltimore and that I’d had a good partner there.”

“I see,” said Ducky a little less disapproving when he saw that Gibbs had not deliberately brought up the subject of Baltimore.

“So, how do Gibbs and I get on?” asked Tony.  “He seems real strict with Agents Bishop and McGee.”

“Jethro is a demanding team leader,” said Ducky as he searched for the right words.  “Demanding of himself and his agents.”

“And that works?  With me?”

“Mostly.  I think you appreciated that Jethro sensed you would be an asset.  He has a rule, you know, ‘Don’t waste good’.  He quoted that to you when he suggested you join NCIS.”

“Oh,” said Tony.  “I guess that’s good.”

“Indeed.  Jethro is … sparing … with his praise.”

“And we work well together?” asked Tony.  “All these years?  I’ve never stayed anywhere so long.”

“You have a fine work ethic,” said Ducky, “And Jethro appreciates that.  You and he have different skill sets but they have worked well together in the past.”

“ _Have_ worked?” asked Tony, “Does that mean they don’t work so well now?”

Ducky gazed at Tony as he realised that, while Tony’s memory might be full of holes, his investigative instincts were unimpaired.  “I don’t work continuously with your team, Anthony so I am not in the best position to judge how you work now.”

“Come on, Doctor, you must have an opinion,” said Tony.

“I will say this,” said Ducky after an uncharacteristic hesitation, “You have matured over the years into a fine agent and good leader and I would suggest that it is inevitable that there will be some tension between an actual and a potential leader.”

Tony looked at him thoughtfully, “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t mean …”

“So why did he rush up here as soon as the hospital did that claim?  He seemed worried,” said Tony.

“Jethro is a complex man,” said Ducky, “And I believe that he cares deeply about all the members of his team.”

“If you say so,” said Tony, “And where is the puppet master this morning?  I had him pegged for someone who’s up at the crack of dawn and running twenty miles before breakfast.”

Ducky laughed, “A few months ago and you might have been correct.  But Jethro was rather severely injured recently and is by no means back to his previous rude health.”

“Just rude,” observed Tony.

Ducky chose to ignore this comment.  “Director Vance … the leader of NCIS … called Jethro, Eleanor and Timothy for a conference this morning.  I chose to absent myself and come here instead.”

“Then why don’t you do your worst?” suggested Tony, “Before the others arrive.”

Ducky huffed a little, “I can assure you that I will do considerably better than my _worst_.  But, indeed this seems to be an opportune moment.  Lead on.”

Gibbs arrived soon afterwards.  If Tony had been there to see the scowl on his face when he didn’t find anyone it would have confirmed his misgivings about his Boss.

 

                                                                                                                                              


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, Anthony, I would certainly recommend a change in medication.  I think you will find my prescription to be most efficacious but I would be happy to discuss this with your doctor.  And I must say that I am looking forward to meeting him.  I do not believe I have ever met someone with the same nickname as mine.”  Ducky was chatting to Tony as they emerged from Tony’s room into the shop.  “Why, Jethro.  Have you finished your conference call with our esteemed Director?” he continued when he saw that Gibbs was sitting at one of the café tables.

“Huh,” said Gibbs in a tone of voice that suggested he didn’t agree with Ducky’s choice of adjective.

“Anthony, is it in order for me to apprise Jethro of my findings?” asked Ducky courteously.

“Go ahead.  Knock yourself out,” said Tony.

Ducky chuckled, “Alas, my boy, I fear that _knocking myself out_ is your forte rather than mine.”

“Jeez, Ducky,” said Gibbs, “Just get on with it, will you?”

“Am I to suppose that Director Vance has said something to displease you, Jethro?” asked Ducky wisely, “It is unlike you to be so impatient with me.  And so early in the morning.”

“I’ll go get Agent Gibbs some coffee,” said Tony.

Ducky watched him go.  “Indeed it seems that Anthony has got your measure quickly, Jethro.”  He smiled but hastily continued.  “Anthony is recovering well from his injuries.  His physical injuries, I should say.  His memories remain obstinately absent and, as you know only too well, that uncertainty is causing him some stress which he is coping with admirably.”

“That it?” asked Gibbs.

“Yes.  I am recommending a change in his pain medication,” said Ducky.  “I believe much of his recovery is down to Mother Nature and time.  But I will consult with Dr Allard.”

Tony returned with coffee for Gibbs and Earl Grey tea for Ducky.  Gibbs nodded his thanks.

“So, Jethro, what did Leon say which has inflamed you so?” asked Ducky after he taken a sip of his tea.  He winced at the taste and put the cup to one side.

“He wants us back in DC,” said Gibbs.  “Says there’s no point in us staying here.”

“He has a point,” said Ducky fairly.

“If DiNozzo can’t travel,” said Gibbs, “There _is_ a point in staying here.”

“I will discuss this with Dr Allard when we meet,” said Ducky.  “I will see what his opinion is.”

“Don’t I get a vote in this?” asked Tony plaintively.

“I don’t want to leave DiNozzo here on his own,” said Gibbs.

“And why is that?” asked Ducky.

“If we found him here then perhaps the people who did this to him could find him as well,” said Gibbs.

“That is an excellent point,” said Ducky, “And one, which I confess, had slipped my mind.”

“Hello,” said Tony, waving his hand in front of Ducky and Gibbs’ faces.  “I am here, you know.”

“What?” said Gibbs.

“I’m not a package, you know.  That you can just pick up and take away,” said Tony.

“Of course not,” said Ducky answering swiftly before Gibbs could reply.  “And what do you want to do?  Assuming that Dr Allard approves of you travelling?”

“I don’t know,” said Tony.

“Then do what you’re told,” said Gibbs who wasn’t in the mood for hesitation.

“Look,” said Tony.  “I don’t want to travel and puke every hundred miles.  Call me a wuss but that doesn’t appeal.  And besides …”

“Besides what?” asked Ducky gently when Tony hesitated.

“I don’t particularly want to go back to DC where I don’t know anyone or anything,” said Tony.

“But you don’t know anyone here either,” said Gibbs logically.  “You haven’t been here a month.”

“I guess,” acknowledged Tony, “But it’s different.  Here George and the others don’t know more about me than I know myself.  It’s kinda odd that you all know so much about me and I have this huge gap.”

“You’re gonna have to suck it up sooner or later,” said Gibbs not without compassion.

“I know,” said Tony, “But at the moment I’d rather it was later than sooner.”

“It might be easier, Jethro, for Anthony to cope with this once his physical injuries have healed a little more.”

“Look,” said Tony with an air of taking charge, “Why don’t I take you to see Dr Allard?  See what he says?”

“That is a very sensible suggestion, Anthony,” said Ducky.  “It is a delightful day for a walk.  And I shall enjoy seeing more of the town.”

“You won’t see much, Ducky,” said Tony, “Doctor’s office is just down the road.”

NCISNCIS

Tim was walking past the park on his way to the World of Wood when he saw a familiar figure sitting by the sculpture.

“Hey, Tony,” he said.  “Guess you like it here?”

“Oh.  Hey, Agent McGee … Tim … yeah, it’s peaceful.”

“You want me to go?” asked Tim politely.

“No, you’re good.  There’s only so much quiet I can stand.”

“That’s true,” said McGee reminiscently, “It’s not usually a good sign if you’re quiet!”

Tony smiled a thin smile, “You know, it’s really weird that you all know so much about me.”

“I’m sorry,” said McGee, “I guess it is.”

“Don’t sweat it,” said Tony.  “It’s not an everyday occurrence.”

“I suppose,” said Tim, “But it’s not like we haven’t had it happen before.”

“What you mean?”

“Uh, Gibbs.  A few years ago.  He was in an explosion.  He had some memory loss.  Hey, come to think of it, he lost fifteen years too.  I guess Ducky was right when he said you and Gibbs were alike.”

Tony shook his head, “Whoa, back up there.  You mean to say that _Gibbs_ lost his memory?”

“He got it back,” said McGee helpfully.

“So, he’s been through this but still gets to frown at me as if it’s my fault I can’t remember him?” demanded Tony.

“Er, Gibbs frowns at everyone,” said McGee.

“Still …” said Tony.

“Gibbs doesn’t always do sympathy,” said Tim, “But he was great when Delilah … my girlfriend … was injured in an explosion.”

Tony was momentarily diverted, “Do you ever think, Tim, that your team is really, really accident prone?”

“All the time,” said Tim ruefully.

“And what did you mean when you said that Ducky thinks that Gibbs and me are alike?” asked Tony.

“You’d have to ask Ducky,” said Tim evasively, “But you’re both dedicated and committed.  When I joined the team it seemed that you and he didn’t really have to talk to know what the other was thinking.”

“Seems to me that with Gibbs being some sort of mute, that would be real handy,” said Tony.

“What did you say?” asked Tim.

“What?”

“About Gibbs being a mute,” said Tim excitedly.

“Didn’t mean to offend you,” said Tony.

“You didn’t,” said Tim.  “But you used to call Gibbs a _functional mute_.”

“To his face?” asked Tony in surprise.

“No,” conceded Tim, “Even you’ve got a better sense of self-preservation than that.”

“So why get excited?”

“Nobody else calls Gibbs a mute,” explained Tim, “Perhaps it means your memory is coming back.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Tony.  “Seems to me that I probably use words much as I did fifteen years ago.  Anyone can see that mute is the ideal word for Gibbs.”

“I guess,” said McGee sadly.

“So, Gibbs and I don’t have to talk to communicate,” mused Tony.

“Yeah, it was real impressive,” said McGee.

“Was?” asked Tony.

“Yes.”

“Does that mean it’s not now?” asked Tony.

“Well, no,” said McGee.  “It’s not working now ‘cos you can’t remember Gibbs.”

“But up until now it has been working?” pressed Tony.

McGee blushed and was evidently struggling to find the right words.  Tony took pity on him,

“So, McGee, Ducky told me that you’re a computer nerd.”

“Ducky told you that?”

“Not in those words,” admitted Tony, “He said you were a computer expert.  That you’re the go-to guy for all things computery.”

“Yes,” said McGee cautiously, “You could say that.”

“Great.  Then I need your help.”

“OK,” said Tim no less cautiously, “What do you need?”

“Ducky brought my drivers’ licence, cheque book and bank cards with him.  Which is great because it means I can get money out again.”

“How did you manage till now?” asked Tim.

“I had $500 in my wallet.  I’ve been using that.”

“Tony Stromboli had a bank account,” said Tim, “You could have used that.”

“Didn’t know the PIN.  Or the answer to any security questions to get it reset,” said Tony.

“Ah,” said Tim.

“And it’s the same with my own account.  I mean, I know how to sign my name but I don’t know the details to get money out using an ATM.  Can you help?”

“You want me to find out your security details?” asked Tim.

“Can you do that?  It’s not too difficult?”

Tim thought about mentioning all the encrypted data he had untangled, the firewalls he had penetrated and his general awesomeness but decided against it.  “I can do that,” he said modestly.

“Thanks, McGee.  Appreciate it.  Hey, look!”

Tim looked in the direction Tony was pointing and laughed.  The two ‘Duckys’ were walking along obviously engrossed in discussion.

“Match made in heaven,” observed Tony.

“Ducky does love a good argument,” said McGee reflectively.  “Well, when he wins it.  Which is usually.”

Ducky spotted the two NCIS agents and walked towards them leaving his namesake to return to his office. 

“Agent McGee, I believe Agent Gibbs is looking for you.  I would not recommend keeping him waiting,” he said.

Tim jumped in alarm.  “No.  Of course not.  Thanks, Ducky.  Um, I’d better be going … I … see you later …” and he was gone.

Tony observed with a mixture of amusement and puzzlement.

Ducky noticed Tony’s reaction and said, with a smile, “When Jethro tells his team to jump, their reaction is to ask how high.”

“So I see,” said Tony.  “How did your confabulation with my other Duck go?”

“He and I concur completely,” said Ducky grandly.

Tony hid a smile as he wondered if Dr Allard would agree with Ducky’s assessment of their consultation.

“We both think it would be unwise for you to undertake a long journey.  Even if your nausea could be brought under control we think you would still suffer an unacceptable level of discomfort.  While a plane ride would be shorter we don’t think this would be advisable at this stage of your recovery.  We also believe you would benefit from the different type of painkiller that I mentioned to you earlier and we intend … propose … to begin this new regimen tonight,” said Ducky.

“Great,” said Tony beginning to be bored with the enduring discussion of his health.

“You should pay heed to my suggestions, Anthony,” said Ducky severely.  “Your health is most important.”

“I know,” said Tony, “But right now I need to puke.”

“Ah,” said Ducky, “I agree that changes the course of our discussions.  For now,”” he added as Tony beat a hasty retreat.

NCISNCIS

Tony was still lying down in his room when Gibbs assembled his team.

“Right,” said Gibbs.  “Director wants us back in DC.”

“What about Tony?” asked Ellie, “I didn’t think he was fit to travel.”

“And you are right, Eleanor.  Dr Allard and I are agreed on that.”

Everyone became conscious of Gibbs’ pained silence and lapsed into silence themselves.

“DiNozzo can’t travel at the moment, he’ll stay here,” said Gibbs.

“But what about the bad guys?” asked Abby.

“Bishop, McGee and you, Abby, will return to DC and work the case from there,” said Gibbs.  “Ducky will go with you.  There’s nothing for him to do here.”

Ducky coughed.  Gibbs looked at him with interest.  He recognised that cough as the one which Ducky was accustomed to preface a statement he knew might be unwelcome.  “I have been speaking to Delores Bromstead in HR,” he said casually, “It turns out that I have accumulated an untoward amount of leave which she requires me to take immediately.  I understand from Mr Clarke that this area of Washington State is particularly well endowed with antique shops so I have decided to spend some time _antiquing._   Although I must say that I find that to be a rather distressing use of the word; it is almost as bad as send someone an _invite_ when the word is most clearly a verb and not a noun.  However, this is not the time for a discussion of the rules of grammar.”

“No, it’s not,” said Gibbs.

“But it is a fortunate circumstance that Cedaron happens to be the perfect place for me to take a well-earned vacation,” said Ducky smugly.  “It will enable me to keep an eye on Anthony as he continues to recover.”

Gibbs spotted that the others had all opened their mouths to speak, “No,” he said, “You cannot take leave and go _antiquing._   You need to go back to DC.”

“But Gibbs,” began Abby.

“No,” said Gibbs, “We need to find out who did this to DiNozzo.  And the best place for you to do that is in DC.  Understood?”

The others nodded but Bishop asked, “And what are you doing, Boss?”

“I’m staying here.”

“You taking some of the sick leave owed to you, Jethro?” asked Ducky innocently.

“The Director agrees that Tony shouldn’t be left on his own here.  And he thinks that, as it should be light duty, it would be good for me to have a less stressful assignment,” said Gibbs blandly.

“The Director does know this is DiNozzo we’re talking about?” said McGee.  “Since when did anything with DiNozzo turn out to be simple?”

“I never argue with the Director of NCIS,” lied Gibbs.

Tony walked back in and saw his co-workers all staring at Gibbs in disbelief.

NCISNCIS

McGee, Abby and Bishop gathered in the World of Wood before leaving the next morning.

“Can’t I wait to say goodbye to Tony?” pleaded Abby.

“Anthony needs his rest,” said Ducky gently.  “Don’t disturb him.”

Abby pouted but was just turning away reluctantly when Tony came out of his room carrying a package.

“To-nee,” squealed Abby happily.

“I thought of something,” said Tony a little sheepishly.

“A memory?” asked McGee hopefully.

“Yes,” said Tony, “But only from a few weeks ago.  I’ve got the clothes I was wearing when I turned up here.”

“Yeah?” said Gibbs.

“They haven’t been laundered,” said Tony.  “Celia wanted to but I said they were too far gone to bother with.  But I didn’t throw them away.”

“No,” agreed Gibbs, “In fact it looks as if you put them into the nearest thing you had to an evidence bag.”

“Not sure why,” said Tony.

“It’s the cop in you,” said Gibbs.

“Maybe.  Anyway, I forgot about them until last night when I was putting my stuff away.  I reckon I had some defensive wounds on my fists.”

“Indeed,” said Ducky, “From the medical report it would appear that you put up a spirited resistance to your attackers.”

“And it occurred to me that some of the blood … and stuff … on my clothes …”

“Might belong to the bad guys,” said Abby excitedly.

“I know it’s a long shot but I wondered if you might be able to get DNA off the clothes.  I mean DNA that’s not mine,” said Tony.

“Forensics has come a long way in fifteen years,” said Bishop.

“And Abby is the best,” said Tim.

“I am the queen of DNA,” said Abby, “If there is DNA to be found, I will find it.  No obstacle will be too great, no smear too small, no …”

“We get the idea,” said Gibbs.  “Take the clothes back with you.”

“Do you need a sample of my DNA?” asked Tony, “You know, for exclusion purposes.”

“Oh, Tony,” said Abby, “I’ve already got your DNA.”

“I’m not going to ask why,” said Tony philosophically, “I already feel as if my brain’s ready to explode!”

Bishop and McGee had expected to have to drag Abby away but the prospect of testing Tony’s clothes was an incentive to leave although she showed signs of wanting to do the testing at the local police station.  She was brought to see, however, that she would work best in her own lab and that her ‘babies’ would be missing her.  Gibbs was grateful that George didn’t stock CafPow: he didn’t think that even he would have been able to dislodge Abby if she hadn’t been suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

“Well,” said Ducky a little unconvincingly, “I suppose I should set about my _antiquing._   Mr Clarke has told me that I will have good hunting in Luxton which is only 30 minutes’ drive away.  I will see you later.”

Tony took one look at Gibbs and stated firmly, “George wants me to man the museum entry desk this morning.”  And he turned and walked away.

Gibbs let him go but went to sit in the café and nurse another long black coffee. 

The day passed peacefully.  Tony dealt with a party of school children at the museum.  Gibbs inspected the lumber yard and other parts of the World of Wood.  Ducky returned with tales of Chippendale and Sheraton furniture marvels and had bought a small silver creamer which he described in great detail.

Gibbs and Tony were sitting in the café listening to Ducky’s travellers’ tales when Gibbs’ phone rang.  He answered it and listened to the person at the other end with a frown before saying, “OK.  Keep me informed,” and ending the call.

Tony didn’t know Gibbs but he guessed something was wrong, “What’s up?” he asked.

“That was McGee.  Seems someone’s being investigating the Stromboli bank account,” said Gibbs.

“How does he know?” asked Tony.

“It’s McGee,” said Gibbs simply, “He knows.”

“And that’s bad?” asked Ducky.

“Looks like someone is trying to find Tony,” said Gibbs.

“But there’s nothing to find,” said Tony.  “I didn’t use the account.”

“Probably nothing to worry about,” said Gibbs.  “The only place you used the name is at the hospital.”

“But we don’t want to risk anyone coming here,” said Tony.

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Anthony,” said Ducky reassuringly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Ducky.  What about Celia and George?  We can’t put them at risk,” said Tony.

Gibbs nodded approvingly.  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said.

“I don’t know you, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony, “But for some reason those words don’t reassure me.”

“We’ll go into hiding,” said Gibbs.

“We?” asked Tony.

“You and me.”

“Where?”

“Seeing as you can’t travel yet …  I was looking around today.  George has a couple cabins he rents out.  In the woods.  They’re both empty.  One of those will be perfect.  It’s a long shot that anyone will find you here and being tucked away will make it an even longer shot.”

Tony laughed.  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, Agent Gibbs.  But I’m not going to hole up in a cabin with you.  I’ll risk puking all the way to DC.”

“Nope,” said Gibbs.  “We’re staying here.”

“Agent Gibbs, I may technically be your agent …”

“Nothing technical about it, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs firmly.

“But I don’t remember and I must be on sick leave,” said Tony, “You can’t make me do this.”

Gibbs smiled.  Tony shivered.  “Your choice, DiNozzo.  You can agree to this or I take you into protective custody.”

Tony groaned and laid his head on the table.  Ducky patted his shoulder commiseratingly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I merged 2 chapters so this is an extra long episode …

 “Chin up, dear boy,” said Ducky cheerfully early the next morning, “There was a time when you would have been most exhilarated to spend time with Jethro.”

“ _Was_ a time?” asked Tony.

“Take a deep breath, Anthony,” said Ducky as he chose to ignore Tony’s question.  “That all seems most satisfactory.  I was concerned that the bruising to your ribs might have had an adverse effect on your lungs but all seems to be in order.  Brad did request, however, that I send him a blood sample.”

“Brad?” asked Tony as he rolled his sleeve up in readiness.

“Dr Brad Pitt,” said Ducky.

“Brad Pitt has quit acting?” demanded Tony.

“What?  No, no.  It is just a coincidence.  Brad Pitt was your doctor when you contracted pneumonic plague.”

“Oh yeah,” said Tony.

“You remember that?” asked Ducky excitedly.

“No.  McGee mentioned it,” said Tony.  “Guess it’s a more common name than I’d thought.  You know … funny story … well, not funny laugh out loud but funny weird – I got my leg broken in a basketball game with Michigan by a guy called Brad Pitt.”

“Ah,” said Ducky, “No, I don’t think it is such a common name.  Your doctor is the same _guy_ you played against.”

Tony shook his head.  “I’m beginning to think NCIS is cursed,” he said.

“I will send this sample off to Dr Pitt,” said Ducky, “He has retained an interest in your case.  You know, you have been written up in a number of medical journals.”

“Always wanted to be famous,” said Tony philosophically.

“Anonymously, of course,” said Ducky.

“At least my lungs are well known,” said Tony.

“Indeed,” said Ducky, “In fact the state of your lungs once gave me the first indication that a charred body I was autopsying was not yours.”  He looked at Tony’s aghast expression and tutted, “But that’s a story for another time.”

“You know,” said Tony, “I caught a grey hair this morning.  I’m beginning to be surprised I haven’t got a head full of them.”

“You got something against grey hair?” asked Gibbs making one of his silent entries.

Ducky noted that Tony didn’t seem to jump quite as spectacularly as he had been wont in the squad room.  He wondered if it had always been done slightly for effect.

“No, Agent Gibbs, I don’t have anything against grey hairs on other people’s heads,” said Tony, “I just object to them on mine.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “For all you know, my grey hairs are down to fifteen years with you, DiNozzo!  Gear up.  I want to get going.”  He left the room briskly.

Tony looked at Ducky enquiringly, “Jethro’s hair has been grey since I first met him,” said the doctor.  “His silver fox look (Abby’s description, not mine) is not your doing.”  Tony looked relieved.  “Although,” continued Ducky thoughtfully, “I suppose it is possible that you have caused an acceleration in the whitening process.”

“Today, DiNozzo!” snapped Gibbs as he put his head back around the door.

Ducky continued at his untroubled pace.  “Now, I will arrange to come and visit every other day.  I advise you to continue with the medication as recommended by Dr Allard and myself.  And report any misgivings you may have about your health to Jethro.”

“What about my mental health?” asked Tony meaningfully with a jerk of the head towards the door and Gibbs.

“I am sure you need have no anxiety about being alone with Jethro,” said Ducky, “He will probably be much happier out in the woods in the basics of a cabin.  Getting back to nature.  He has his own cabin near DC, you know.”

“Have I been there?” asked Tony.

“Yes, indeed.”

“Any disasters befall me there?” asked Tony.

“None that I know of,” said Ducky.

“There’s a surprise,” muttered Tony.

“Anyway, I assure you that Jethro is never happier than when he is _roughing_ it.  And I would surmise that cell reception may be patchy out there as well.  He will be in his element.  I can tell from his demeanour that he is looking forward to the experience.”

“That’s him looking _happy?”_ asked Tony.  Ducky nodded.  Tony laughed, “Oh well.  I’m guessing he doesn’t know that George’s cabins are _luxury_ cabins?  People want to get away from things but not too much.  So the cabins have hot tubs or Jacuzzis.  And he’s got this gadget which boosts signals so cell phones and Wi-Fi work fine.”

“Oh my,” said Ducky. 

“And they’ve got TVs and state of the art kitchens,” continued Tony.  “Agent McGee told me about something called Netflix.  Says I can use it to catch up on my movie watching.  He left me a laptop and says he’ll arrange for a subscription for me.”

“I’m sure Agent Gibbs will be delighted,” said Ducky drily.

“He’s interested in movies too?” said Tony.

“Not as interested as you are,” said Ducky diplomatically.

“It’s a NCIS laptop,” said Tony, “McGee said he’d get my password reset so I can access my work emails and stuff like that.”

“You should not be working, Anthony,” said Ducky in concern.

“I won’t be,” said Tony, “But it might help me remember by looking at what I used to do.  I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“I know it’s easy to say, Anthony, but I don’t think straining after your memories is your best option.  Stress will not help.”

“But you’re happy for me to go off into the wilderness with Agent Gibbs?” said Tony only half-joking.

“You have just indicated that it is not the wilderness,” Ducky pointed out, “And I am willing to take that risk rather than the risk of your being under threat from criminals.  We have only just found you, dear boy and I cannot readily face the possibility of losing you once more.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Tony finding himself touched by Ducky’s words, “And I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a nuisance.”

“Then get a move on,” said Gibbs sternly as he returned once more.

Ducky had no more delaying tactics so let Tony go to collect his belongings.

“Jethro,” he said before Gibbs could walk away, “Go carefully with Anthony.  You should know from experience that memories cannot be head slapped or ordered back.  As I said before, Anthony is vulnerable at the moment.”

Gibbs stared at Ducky for a moment or two before saying, “I want him back too, Duck.”

Tony came back and with faux innocence, “I thought you were in a hurry?”

Gibbs muttered something under his breath and Tony grinned at Ducky in delight.  Ducky smiled back and realised how much he’d missed this mischievous Tony.

NCISNCIS

The arrangement was that Gibbs would drop into the World of Wood every couple of days to pick up food and check that everything was in order although, with Tony’s revelation that their cabin was less isolated than thought, those checks might not be necessary.  Ducky decided to stick to his intention to visit periodically to ensure that Tony’s recovery was progressing satisfactorily.

Gibbs would probably have preferred the idea of striding out into the woods with just a backpack but agreed to George lending them something like a golf buggy so Tony didn’t have to walk far or carry anything heavy.  Gibbs looked a little suspiciously at the vehicle, wondering why they were available with the cabins.  Tony saw the look but forbore to explain that they were necessary for the ‘city slickers’ whose wish to get back to basics was tempered by a need to bring lots of supplies and luggage.

George had offered them the cabin which was the furthest into the wood and, even with the buggy, it took them nearly half an hour to get there.  Gibbs breathed a satisfied sigh when they came to their temporary accommodation.  From the outside it looked much like his own cabin in the woods even if it was rather larger.  There were even two wooden rocking chairs beneath an oversized porch.

Gibbs’ good mood continued when they went through the door into the main living space.  The walls were the plain logs, there were colourful rugs on the floor and the furniture looked solid and unpretentious.  He nodded with satisfaction.  There were four doors leading off the main room.  One was open and led into the spacious kitchen.  Gibbs blinked at the sight of the gleaming appliances; he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much stainless steel in one place outside of Autopsy.

Tony grinned.  He looked around the living room and opened the doors of a wooden cabinet to reveal a huge TV.

“Not bad,” he commented, “Wonder what the cable package is.”

Gibbs grunted and stalked back outside to collect their gear.  He returned a minute or so later to find Tony in the kitchen,

“Found the coffee maker,” called Tony, “You want some?”

“Yeah,” said Gibbs feeling slightly mollified while hoping it wasn’t a machine which made cappuccinos or other frothy coffee.

While Tony interpreted the coffee machine instructions liberally so as to provide Gibbs with the toxic brew he preferred, Gibbs inspected the other rooms.  He found three bedrooms, all en-suite, and decided to allocate Tony to the middle one in the hope that any intruders would have to go past his own door first.  He noted there was a comfortable couch in the living area and thought that he might sleep there to give extra security.

Having made the coffee, Tony inspected the food they had brought with them.

“Hmm, steaks,” he said.  “How do you want them?  Agent McGee said you had a special recipe?”

“Cowboy steaks,” said Gibbs.  “At least, that’s what you call them.”

“You cook us steaks?” asked Tony.

“You,” said Gibbs.  “You’re the only one who’s actually had them.”

“Oh,” said Tony.

“Why so surprised?” asked Gibbs.

“Seems a friendly thing to do,” said Tony.

“You saying I can’t be friendly?” asked Gibbs.

“No.  Just seems unlikely that you’d be friendly to me,” said Tony.  “Coffee’s ready.  I’m going to stow my gear.”

“Take the middle room,” ordered Gibbs distractedly, as he tried to work out the meaning behind Tony’s words.

NCISNCIS

When Tony came back he found Gibbs staring at the 6 burner range with a puzzled look on his face.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Trying to figure out how to cook these steaks on this … thing!”

“How d’you usually cook them?” asked Tony.

“Over my fire,” said Gibbs.

“Oh,” said Tony.  “Well, George said there’s a fire pit outside.  Will that do?”

“Could do,” said Gibbs cautiously.  “I’ll prep the steaks.  Then go see.”

Gibbs looked around for the ingredients for the rub he put on the steaks and then went outside to inspect the fire pit.  He was surprised to see that Tony had gathered the wood and set an excellent fire.

“Didn’t know you could do that?” Gibbs commented.

It was Tony’s turn to look surprised, “What?” he said.

“Didn’t think you were an outdoors type of person,” Gibbs explained.

“I did a lot of camps when I was a kid,” said Tony, “Including wilderness and survival.  Learning to set a fire is sort of mandatory.”

“That figures,” said Gibbs.  “Just something that you kept quiet about.”

“Why?” asked Tony blankly.

Gibbs shrugged, “Don’t know.  Didn’t go with the image, I guess.  With the suits.”

Tony stared at the fire, “They weren’t happy times,” he said, “I missed my Dad.”

“Good enough,” said Gibbs.

“And,” continued Tony as he seemed to try to puzzle things out, “I get the impression that you are the Daniel Boone type.  Perhaps I wanted to avoid not coming up to your standards.”

Gibbs shrugged again.

“And,” said Tony a little more cheerfully, “I’m guessing there’s not a lot of opportunity for using wilderness skills in DC?”

“No,” agreed Gibbs.  “Although McGee tries to find them.”

Tony was silent for a moment or two, “So, Agent Gibbs,” he said finally, “You going to show me how to do these steaks of yours?”

Gibbs nodded and set to work and the food was soon ready.  Gibbs and Tony sat on the ground around the pit and ate.

“We do this often?” asked Tony.

“Sometimes,” said Gibbs.

“We hang out sometimes?”

“I guess,” said Gibbs as he struggled to quantify his dealings with DiNozzo.

“Why’d you have me on your team, Agent Gibbs?” asked Tony.

“Why all the questions all of a sudden?” asked Gibbs.

“I’m trying to figure things out there, Agent Gibbs.  Asking questions is all I’ve got.”

“All right, you answer me a question.  Then we’ll see about answering yours,” said Gibbs.

“Sounds like a good interrogation technique.  Do you use that on your suspects?  Get them to talk and then remind them you never promised anything?”

Gibbs smiled his crooked smile at this evidence of Tony’s sharpness.  “Maybe,” he conceded, “But you’re not a suspect.”

“Very good, Agent Gibbs.  The reassurance but still no promise.  But I’ll risk it.  What’s your question?”

“Why’d you agree to come here with me?”

“You said George and Celia might be in danger,” said Tony promptly.

“True.  But what’s the real reason?”

“I know my memory’s shot but I seem to remember something about a threat to take me into protective custody,” said Tony.

“The real reason,” said Gibbs, “You’d have found a way to wriggle out of this if you really wanted.”

“OK,” said Tony holding his hands out in a gesture of surrender, “I reckon you hold the key to a lot of the things that have happened to me over the last fifteen or so years.  I need to get to know you, to understand you.  If I come back to work for you …”

“If?” interrupted Gibbs.  “What you mean, if?”

“I’m being realistic here, Agent Gibbs.  What if I don’t get my memory back?  Will there be a place for me at NCIS?  Hell of a learning curve to get back up to speed.  I guess I’m hoping being with you will trigger a return of some memory but if it doesn’t, well, I reckon I need to work out whether you’re someone I can work under.”

“So you’re _investigating_ me?” asked Gibbs.

“Investigating is what I’m paid to do,” said Tony.  “At least, I hope I’m still being paid – I’m guessing that I’ve got living expenses to cover?”

“Yes, you are and yes, you have,” said Gibbs, deciding not to mention that Tony had got his apartment cheap because of the triple murder that had happened there; somehow he thought DiNozzo was suffering from an overdose of disaster stories and wouldn’t appreciate another.

“So,” said Tony, “Have I earned the right to ask questions?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs.  “Go ahead.”

“Why’d you hire me?” asked Tony.

“I saw you had potential,” said Gibbs, “A spark.  You worked out what my play was; it was impressive.”

“Ah,” said Tony sounding pleased.

“And the Director was on my back to get a new agent,” said Gibbs.  “The ones he assigned me kept on asking for transfers!”

The pleased smile on Tony’s face faded.  Gibbs felt a pang of contrition.

“And that’s something I do sometimes,” he said.

“What?” asked Tony glumly.

“Make a joke that turns out not to be funny,” said Gibbs.  “I’ve done it a few times.”

“No sweat,” said Tony kindly, “You probably just don’t have the chops for humour.  Not everyone has.”

“You may be right,” agreed Gibbs, “But I’m not good at giving out praise.  I tend to say something nice and then do something to take it back.  I’m not proud of it, it’s just something I do.”

“So you did think I was worth hiring?” asked Tony.

“Yes.”

“But you did have your Boss on your back?”

“Yes,” said Gibbs, “But I don’t take any notice of what my Boss says!”

“Does that mean I don’t have to take any notice of what you say?” asked Tony mischievously.

“Sure.  So long as you don’t mind getting a pink slip with your next pay,” said Gibbs conversationally.

“Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?” asked Tony.

“No,” said Gibbs calmly, “’Cos I’m usually right and other people are usually wrong.  My team, my rules.  That’s the way it is.  If people don’t like it, they can leave.”

“That why you got through so many agents?”

“You’re right, you are an investigator,” said Gibbs.

“But I didn’t leave?” said Tony.

“Nope.  You’ve been on my team longer than anyone else,” said Gibbs.

“So there must have been something good there,” said Tony.

“I guess,” said Gibbs. 

“And what do you think it was?  I mean, what was good?”

Gibb sighed as he began to feel uncomfortable with the interrogation.  “The work is interesting and worthwhile.  We make a difference.  You thought you had something to learn from me.”

“So we got on OK?” asked Tony.

“Your Dad once said I’d been more of a father to you than he’d been,” said Gibbs.

“Wow,” said Tony, “I didn’t expect that.  And was he right?”

“Not sure I’m the right person to ask,” said Gibbs, “I was estranged from my own father for years.”

“You’re slippery, Agent Gibbs.  Just as I think I’m getting somewhere you go all enigmatic.  What do I call you anyway?”

“What?”

“At work?  What do I call you?  I’m guessing it’s not Jethro.  Sir?”

“Never Sir,” said Gibbs firmly, “I work for a living.”

“You know that’s rubbish, don’t you?” said Tony.  “You implying that anyone in charge of other people are swinging the lead and not doing anything?”

Gibbs ignored this.  “You usually call me Boss or Gibbs.”

Tony looked at him thoughtfully.  “Don’t think I can manage Boss yet.  How about Gibbs?  Agent Gibbs is a bit of a mouthful.”

“Gibbs is fine,” said Gibbs.  “We done?”

“For now,” agreed Tony.  “But there’s something else I need to ask you about.”

“Go on,” said Gibbs with something like a groan.

“Agent McGee sent me a text with my logon and new password for accessing the NCIS site.  But I can’t figure out how the email works.  Can you show me?”

Gibbs looked at Tony as if he had just handed him a poisonous snake.  “You want me to do what?” he demanded.

NCISNCIS

The rest of the day passed quietly after the drama of Gibbs explaining IT procedures to Tony.  Gibbs shook his head at the unlikelihood of him retreating to a forest cabin and having to explain how to use email.  Once Tony had grasped the basics, however, he was happy to look at his emails including a copy of his personnel file which McGee had sent him.

“No significant others waiting for me at home then,” said Tony with a mixture of relief and sadness.

“Nope.  But don’t worry.  You haven’t been a hermit all these years.  You’ve had your moments,” said Gibbs.

“Never doubted it, Age … Gibbs,” said Tony with a hint of smugness.  “Still, I figured I might have been married by now.  That was my plan when I was in Baltimore.”

“Hmm,” said Gibbs noncommittally, deciding he didn’t want to discuss fifteen years of Tony’s romantic entanglements.

Tony didn’t seem to notice the non-answer but returned to reading about himself.  Gibbs relaxed for a moment or two but then Tony said,

“McGee just sent me another email.”

Gibbs grumbled under his breath about McGee’s innate helpfulness and wish to provide information.  “Yeah?” he said.

“A link to something called Facebook.  What’s that?”

“It’s an internet thingy that some people do,” said Gibbs.

“Do you?” asked Tony.

“It’s a social media thing, networking,” said Gibbs as if this should be answer enough.

“So?” asked Tony.  He was beginning to pick up that Gibbs wasn’t exactly tech savvy but hadn’t realised the depths of his antipathy to on-line activity.

“So, no,” said Gibbs.  “No, I do not use Facebook.  And I don’t tweet either.”

“Oh,” said Tony, “I thought you would.”

“Why?” asked Gibbs.

“Because you’re an outdoor sort of person.  You know, communing with nature, all that.  I’d have thought that tweeting might help.”

“How?” said Gibbs, wondering if Tony might have been more seriously injured than first thought.

“Bird calls,” said Tony.  “Don’t people hide in bushes and do duck calls?  Although that might be to lure them in to shoot them.  Do you shoot, Gibbs?”

Gibbs shook his head as he tried to disentangle all Tony’s questions.  “Ask McGee about tweeting,” he said, “And shooting something seems appealing right now.”

NCISNCIS

“What you going to do today, Gibbs?” asked Tony the next morning as they sat around the breakfast table.

“There’s some wood to be chopped,” said Gibbs.  He sighed as he realised that perhaps he hadn’t thought the protection duty through completely.  There wasn’t much for him to actually do as he couldn’t investigate the crime and couldn’t go off for a walk in the wood as he had to stay with Tony.  If he picked up a book Tony seemed to take it as invitation to ask him yet another question and there was only so much cooking of steaks that he could do.

Tony looked as if he was calculating how many trees would be safe from Gibbs’ axe but, before he could speak, there came a noise from outside.

“Go into the bedroom,” ordered Gibbs with senses on the alert immediately.

Tony looked as if he would like to argue but, muttering something about feeling like the girl in a 1960s show, he obeyed.  Gibbs drew his weapon and edged toward the window; he looked out and saw George and Ducky standing by the steps up to the cabin.

“What you doing here, Duck?” asked Gibbs as he opened the door, “Didn’t think you were coming till tomorrow.”

“And a good morning to you too, Jethro,” said Ducky serenely, “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Duck?  Everything OK?” asked Gibbs.

“Indeed.  And it is a beautiful morning, is it not?  When Mr Clarke said he was coming to visit I could not resist the opportunity to accompany him.”

“Bored with antiquing already?” said Gibbs knowingly.

“It is perhaps less gripping than I had expected,” conceded Ducky, “But I wanted to share one of my purchases with you.”

“You did?” said Gibbs sceptically.

“Oh, you’ll be pleased I did, Jethro,” said Ducky confidently.  “Look.”  He handed Gibbs a canvas holdall.   “It occurred to me that you might be getting a little bored,” said Ducky, “So when I saw these in a shop yesterday it seemed heaven sent.”

Gibbs opened the bag and smiled.  “Duck, these are …”

“Late 19th century woodworking tools,” interrupted Ducky, “I thought you might enjoy doing some carving or whittling while you are here.”

“Thanks, Duck,” said Gibbs with real gratitude as he drew the tools out and ran his fingers over them with pleasure.

“I brought you some wood,” said George, “It’s well seasoned and ready to use.  Come and have a look.  It’s in the truck.”

Gibbs looked around to make sure there were no threats lurking and followed George to where he had parked the truck a couple hundred yards away.  When they got to the truck Gibbs’ eyes went, not to the wood, but to an animal sitting placidly in the driver’s cab.

“Is that a _dog_?” asked Gibbs uncertainly.

“Yes,” laughed George, “That’s the other thing we brought you.  His owner has had to go away for a few days and asked us to look after him but he’s not very happy being in the shop all the time.  Thought you might take him while you’re here.  He’s no trouble.”

Gibbs looked appraisingly at the dog who cocked his head and looked back.  He decided that a dog might be good to have around and he had no fears about how it would behave.  In his experience dogs, like NCIS directors, did what they were told.  “Sure,” he said, “So long as DiNozzo doesn’t mind.”  Gibbs wasn’t sure how Tony would react to another guest; he seemed to remember that Tony didn’t always interact well with animals.  He walked to the cab door and leaned through the window, “You’ll behave,” he said firmly.  The dog seemed suitably impressed.  “Come on then,” he said, opening the door.  The dog jumped down and went to stand at Gibbs’ heel.

Gibbs felt his day was getting even better when he looked at the wood brought by George and realised he could do a lot with it.  He hefted it into his arms and strode back to the cabin with the dog trotting quietly beside him.

As George and Gibbs approached the cabin they heard Ducky interrogating Tony about his health.

“I’m good, Ducky,” said Tony.  “I think that new medication is working fine.  I haven’t felt sick or nauseous since I started on it.”

“And the headaches?”

“One yesterday.  But that might have been brought on by Gibbs describing Facebook to me,” said Tony.

“I beg your pardon, Anthony,” said Ducky, “I misheard you.  I thought you said that Jethro was talking about Facebook.”

“You heard me right,” said Tony.

“Good Lord,” said Ducky, “Are you sure it was not Jethro who had the headache?”

Tony opened his mouth to explain but was interrupted by the sound of excited barking.  The quiet dog who had been trotting happily at Gibbs’ heel had spotted Tony and ran towards him,

“Doodle!” cried Tony.  The dog careered into his legs and then started running in figures of eight around him in excitement.

“Doodle?” asked Gibbs.

Ducky looked knowledgeably at the blur of black and white which was charging around Tony, “I believe this is a Dalmadoodle.  A cross between a Poodle and a Dalmatian.”

“Sit!” said Gibbs firmly.

The dog spared him a look but continued his progress around Tony.

“Hey, Doodle!  You heard the man, sit,” ordered Tony.

Doodle stopped immediately, sat down and looked up adoringly at Tony.

“Forgot to say,” said George laconically, “The dog likes Tony.”

“You don’t say,” said Gibbs.

“What’s he doing here?” asked Tony, as he stooped to pat an ecstatic dog.

“Mara has to go away for a few days.  Asked us to take Doodle.  Celia thought you might like to have him out here,” said George.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at George’s different explanation for Doodle’s arrival but didn’t say anything as he found he was enjoying looking at Tony’s happy face: it was perhaps the first time he had seen Tony with an unguarded expression since they had found him in Cedaron.

“He’s got good hearing, Agent Gibbs,” said George, “He’ll hear if anyone comes by.”

Gibbs nodded his approval of this.

“Anthony,” said Ducky, “Perhaps you would allow me to examine you before I depart?”  He placed a hand on Tony’s arm to steer him back into the cabin. 

Doodle bared his teeth and gave a low growl to show his displeasure.

“It’s all right, Doodle,” said Tony reassuringly, “Ducky is a friend.  Look, you can come with us.”

“I’d say Tony just got another bodyguard,” said Gibbs as he watched Tony disappear with Ducky and Doodle.

“His name is Oscar,” said George, “Tony calls him Doodle.”

“Tony likes changing names,” said Gibbs in a tone bordering on fondness, “And let’s face it, the dog looks like a doodle.  I’ve never seen a curly haired white dog with spots.  It’s like something a kid would draw.”

“Kinda cute, though,” said George.

Gibbs shrugged.  Somehow George couldn’t imagine him using the word _cute._

George and Ducky didn’t stay long.  Ducky was pleased with Tony’s progress and particularly that the new prescription was working well while George had to get back to open up the World of Wood. 

The rest of the day passed peacefully.  Gibbs spent the time getting used to his new tools and deciding what to do with the lumber while Tony found he had four Bond movies to catch up on and a new James Bond to assess.  Doodle was content to stay at Tony’s side and listen to the monologue on the relative merits of the Bond actors.

“Thought I’d go for a walk tomorrow,” said Tony as they sat over dinner.

“You feeling up to it?” asked Gibbs.  So far since they had found him, Tony had seemed lethargic and content to sit quietly apart from his strolls to the park.

“Yep.  Feeling a lot better.  Ducky’s a good doctor.  Did any of his bodies ever come back to life?”  Tony laughed at his own joke but then saw Gibbs’ expression.  “Oh, stupid question, I guess.  How often?”

“Just the once.  That I know of,” said Gibbs.

“For someone who has lots of rules you sure seem to attract a lot of chaos,” mused Tony.

Gibbs gave his characteristic shrug.  “I’ll go with you tomorrow,” he said.

“You really think someone’s going to be after me?” asked Tony sceptically.

“Don’t know.  You really want to risk it?”

“Good point,” said Tony.  “I’m gonna to hit the rack.”  He saw Gibbs’ raised eyebrow.  “What?”

“It’s a navy term,” said Gibbs.

“Oh.  Matron at the military academy I went to.  She was ex-navy.  She used to call it hitting the rack.  Guess I picked it up from her,” said Tony.  “Good night.”

“Night,” said Gibbs.

Doodle followed Tony into his bedroom leaving Gibbs behind.  Gibbs didn’t go to bed immediately but sat watching the dying embers of the fire.  When finally, he also decided to ‘hit the rack’, he went to check on Tony first although he wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to.  He opened the door noiselessly and smiled as he saw Doodle sprawled at the bottom of the bed and that the dog was looking watchfully at Gibbs.  Gibbs nodded and closed the door.  Tony’s eyes opened as he sensed Gibbs leaving and they stayed that way for some time as sleep eluded him.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs and Tony went for a silent yet companionable walk the next morning.  Tony’s bruises were beginning to fade and he was walking more easily.  As so often in the past, Tony mirrored Gibbs’ thoughts,

“How long we going to stay holed up here?” he asked.  “I mean, apart from the whole memory stuff, I’m getting back to normal.  Don’t understand why Ducky and Abby didn’t bring any of my tube socks though: they would have made the walking easier.”

Gibbs decided not to tell Tony that it had been some years since he had worn tube socks.  “I figure we’ll stay here a few days more.  Wait to see if McGee and Bishop find anything in DC.  You still got some movies to look at?”

“Can’t spend all my time watching movies,” said Tony.  “I spend much more time like this and I’ll be able to apply for a job teaching film.”  Gibbs seemed to twitch.  Tony sighed, “Don’t tell me, I’ve taught film?”

“Kinda,” said Gibbs, “Difficult to explain.”

Tony didn’t answer directly but asked a question instead, “Seems that this MCRT of yours is pretty high profile?”

“Yeah,” agreed Gibbs.  “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Tony unconvincingly.

Gibbs looked at him but decided not to press him.  Tony had the slightly absent expression he often wore when his mind was working overtime to make connections.  Tony went straight to his laptop when they got back to the cabin and Gibbs asked him about something which puzzled him,

“You know your way around that thing,” he said.

“So?” asked Tony.

“We didn’t have so many computers at NCIS when you joined.  But you knew what to do … you know, how to use that pad thing to move the dot …”

“Cursor?” suggested Tony.

“Yeah, the cursor,” agreed Gibbs thinking that it was a fitting word given how much he cursed when using his computer.

“What’s your point, Gibbs?”

“Like I said, you seem pretty familiar with how it all works.”

“I asked Duck … Dr Allard … about that,” said Tony.  “Celia showed me her smartphone.  And they weren’t around when I was in Baltimore but once she’d logged me in, I knew my way around it.  Duck said it may be a different type of memory involved.  Like if I’d learned to drive in the last fifteen years I’d probably still remember how to do it.  So, I won’t remember passwords or things like that but the mechanics of how to use the equipment is still there.  That’s why McGee had to get me new passwords and access codes and why I needed you to explain NCIS procedures around emails and stuff.”

“Huh,” said Gibbs.  “Can’t imagine anything like that sticking in my memory.  It’s barely there now!”

“McGee said the case I was working on came to court yesterday,” said Tony.

“Preliminary hearing,” said Gibbs.

“Explain again what I was doing,” said Tony, “I’ve only heard it in bits and pieces.”

“The Director sent you undercover as a travelling pharmaceutical rep.  You were trying to infiltrate a gang suspected of selling illicit drugs to the Navy.  It was going OK when you missed a check-in with Vance.”

“With Vance?”

“The Director.  It was his op.”

“You weren’t involved?”

“Nope.”

“Wouldn’t have figured you for someone who let their team members go off on assignments,” said Tony.

“The Director asked for you.  You agreed.  Nothing I could do,” said Gibbs.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Gibbs.  “And I was given Tony Stromboli as the undercover name?”

“Yep.”

“What happened when I went missing?”

“Director brought my team in as well.  We arrested the people we knew were involved.  Decided we had to cut our losses.  We hoped that we’d be able to make them tell us what had happened.”

“But it didn’t work?” asked Tony.

“Nope.  What you’d found gave us enough to press charges against the gang.”

“Without my testimony?” asked Tony.

“It’ll stick without it.  You collected enough evidence to convict the small fry.”

“I’m guessing, as I got chased off a bridge, that the bad guys twigged I was undercover?” said Tony.

“You think?” said Gibbs.

“And they know NCIS was the federal agency involved?”

“Taking them to the NCIS building was a good clue,” said Gibbs.  “What does it matter?”

“And Agent McGee was at yesterday’s hearing?”

“Yes.”

“So our bad guys will know that the MCRT was involved?”

“Yes.  What you thinking?”

“You said that your team is reasonably high profile.  I was just wondering whether the crooks will know who’s on your team and be able to work out who’s been missing these last weeks.”

“They could have,” agreed Gibbs.  “You mean they’ll know that you were the undercover guy?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?” asked Gibbs.  “You’re safe here.  They may be trying to find Tony DiNozzo but they won’t be able to.”

“Yeah, but I had this odd email this morning,” said Tony.

“What was odd about it?”

“It looks as if it’s an email from First Farmer Bank.  And it asks me if I still need the account opened for me under the name of Tony Stromboli.  They’ve noticed there’s been no activity on the account and say that I may want to avoid incurring charges by closing an account that I don’t need.”

“Never heard of banks trying to save their customers money,” said Gibbs.

“Neither have I.  And how would they know that I had an account under another name?  Wouldn’t your Finance people have opened the account for Stromboli?”

“They did,” said Gibbs, “There shouldn’t be anything to link your name with that account.”

“Would the bad guys have known where I banked?  I mean where Stromboli banked?” asked Tony.

“Probably,” said Gibbs.  “I think you splashed the cash with them a bit.  Brought them some meals at the beginning.  Paid with your credit card.  They could have found out from that.  And we know that someone has been looking at the account already: that’s why we came to stay in the cabin.”

“And I guess, once they’d figured out my name, that they could have worked out what my NCIS email address is.  Wouldn’t be surprised if they had some failed attempts bounce back to them,” said Tony.  “But why send this email?”

“Did you reply to it?” asked Gibbs.

“Of course not.  In fact, I didn’t even open it.  I just previewed it.”

“What’s that?” asked Gibbs.

“You could look at an email without opening it,” said Tony.

“Why would you want to do that?” asked Gibbs.

“Leaves the email looking new,” said Tony, “I do it as a way of knowing it’s a message I haven’t dealt with.  Although if the sender put some sort of tracker on it they might still know I’ve read it.  Although you wouldn’t think they’d put a read or received receipt on it, would you?”

“Wouldn’t I?” said Gibbs blankly.

“No.  Because we could track where a receipt went back to.  Well, I couldn’t but a Brainiac like McGee could.”

“Don’t do anything with it,” ordered Gibbs, “I’ll get McGee on it.”

“I don’t understand why they sent it,” said Tony.  “What does it get them?”

“If you’d replied I guess it would be confirmation of what they thought.  They might be able to track where you replied from,” said Gibbs.

“If they know it was your team that arrested the drug gang members,” said Tony, “They’re probably checking on any out of state travel any of you have done recently.”

“We came by coastguard flights,” said Gibbs, “They aren’t easily traceable.  But …”

“But?”

“But Abby and Ducky came here by commercial flight.  And Abby, McGee and Bishop went back on a regular flight,” said Gibbs.

“Still difficult to find us here,” said Tony.

“But not impossible,” said Gibbs.  “We have to think they’ll find us.”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs told McGee to look at Tony’s emails to see if he could work out where it had been sent from and to think about what would happen if a reply was sent to the email.

“Has Abby had any luck with finding DNA on my clothes?” asked Tony.

Gibbs grinned, “Don’t let her hear you talking about luck,” he said, “She’d give you a lecture on scientific procedures.  But no, nothing yet.  Think she’s been backed up with work from other teams so she hasn’t fast tracked the results.  But she’ll let us know.”

“So, we’re still waiting and seeing,” said Tony morosely.

“McGee and the others are working on it,” said Gibbs calmly.

“But why would they be after me?” asked Tony.

“Huh?”

“Well, revenge is something you _read_ about but in my experience crooks don’t waste energy on getting back at cops.  These guys seem to have got away with attacking me.  They don’t seem to have been under suspicion for the drugs crime so why go after me?  Doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless you know something,” said Gibbs.

“I don’t,” protested Tony.  “The last police thing I remember is getting my detective badge at Baltimore.”

“I should have said, they _think_ you know something,” said Gibbs.

“You mean I found out something bigger than I’d already reported?” said Tony.

“Could be,” said Gibbs.  “If they’re after you it’s because they’re worried you could shop the big bosses.”

“But if I did, and if I remembered, wouldn’t you have arrested them by now?” reasoned Tony.

“Not necessarily.  There may be some big deal coming up that they think we’re waiting for.  Or they may figure that you’re badly injured somewhere and not able to testify yet.  Could be lots of reasons.”

Tony banged a fist against his forehead in frustration, “If only I could remember!”

Doodle whined and put his head on Tony’s knee in a bid to comfort him.

“Don’t do that,” said Gibbs to Tony, “You won’t get your memories back that way.  If they’re coming back, they’ll come back.  You can’t force them.”

“Is that what happened to you?” asked Tony.

“What?”

“McGee mentioned that you had amnesia,” said Tony.  “After an explosion but that you got your memory back.”

“Why did he tell you that?” asked Gibbs.

“Just slipped out, I think,” said Tony.  “Don’t blame him.”

“Part of your _investigation_ into me?” said Gibbs.

Tony looked at him sternly, “Like I said before, I’m trying to figure things out.  Maybe you got through your amnesia differently.  You’re the strong silent type whereas me … well, I’m not the silent type.  I ask questions in the hope that an answer will trigger something for me.  And I figure that you’re a big part of what’s gone on in the past fifteen years so, forgive me, if I ask questions.  You must be used to it by now.”

“The yabba yabba,” said Gibbs in a softer tone.

“What?”

“Your process of thinking out loud,” said Gibbs, “I told you once that I depend on it.”

“You told me _once?_ ”

“I don’t hand out praise like lollipops,” said Gibbs.

“Is that one of your rules?” asked Tony.

“You like the rules,” said Gibbs.

“I do?”

“Well,” Gibbs temporised, “You follow them.”

“Yeah?”

“Although you’re probably breaking one now.”

“Which one?”

“Rule 9.  Always carry a knife.  That’s got you out of trouble more than once.”

“Name one,” said Tony.

“You got taken prisoner.  Escaped because you had a knife hidden on you.  In your belt buckle.  Even I didn’t know you had it,” said Gibbs.

“Go figure,” said Tony thoughtfully.

“What?” asked Gibbs, puzzled that Tony had reacted relatively calmly to this information.

“What?” said Tony emerging from his reverie, “What?  No, nothing.  Just a thought.”

“You sure?” asked Gibbs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not suppressing a memory, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony sharply.

“Didn’t think you were,” said Gibbs calmly.

NCISNCIS

George’s signal booster meant that it was straightforward to keep in touch with DC by phone or email.  This meant that Tony and Gibbs were able to sit in comfort by the laptop to hear the MCRT’s findings although it took a little time for Abby to get over her excitement over seeing Doodle.  Doodle was puzzled about hearing noises from people he couldn’t see but he was fairly placid and, so long as Tony wasn’t alarmed, he was ready to play along.

“You finished, Abs?” said Gibbs after allowing her to vent her pleasure for a few minutes.

Abby took another breath but then seemed to register Gibbs’ loss of patience.  She took another breath and then began her report.

“I got at least four different types of DNA from Tony’s clothes,” she said.  “And I got a hit on two of them.  Jake Penrose and Mitch O’Driscoll.”  She put their pictures up on the computer.  “You recognise any of them, Tony?” she asked.

Tony leaned forward, “No,” he said after a short pause.  “Sorry.”

“What do we know about them?” asked Gibbs.

“They’re enforcers for Gabriella Sciofa,” said McGee.  “Been to prison for assault charges which is why their DNA is on record.  Abby couldn’t enhance those pictures of the guys who chased Tony off the bridge but Penrose and O’Driscoll fit the general description.”

“Who’s Gabriella Sciofa?” asked Tony.

“She owns a pharmaceutical company but it’s a cover for a big drugs ring on the West Coast,” said Ellie. “Or to be more accurate, the company is _allegedly_ a cover for a big drugs ring.  FBI and DEA have never been able to make a charge stick and she’s rarely seen in public.   If her guys were the ones who attacked Tony, it may be that she was looking to extend her operations.”

“And that would make Tony a target,” said Gibbs.

“Yes,” said Tim, “There was nothing to suggest she was involved.  Well, not until now.”

“What about that email?” asked Tony.

“You were right.  It didn’t come from First Farmer Bank.  Managed to trace it back to an internet café in Alexandria.  We got security camera footage of people going into the place around the right time but one guy managed to keep his face hidden.  He fits the general description of Penrose.”

“If we replied to the email, would they be able to trace where it had been sent from?” asked Gibbs.

“They might,” said McGee.  “Depends how skilled they are.”

“What do you want us to do?” asked Ellie.

“Look into Penrose and O’Driscoll,” said Gibbs.  “See if you can track what they’ve been doing, where they’re living.  And Sciofa, we need to know what she’s been up to.”

“We going to try and lure them out?” asked Tony.  “Make me the bait?”

Abby gave a mew of protest but didn’t say anything.

“We’ll think about it,” said Gibbs.  “Go home now.  Work on it tomorrow and we’ll have a campfire tomorrow night.”

McGee and Bishop laughed.  Tony looked surprised.  “You like campfires, Tony,” explained Ellie.

“Gibbs not so much,” added McGee.

“Night,” said Gibbs firmly as he closed the laptop lid.

“Er, Gibbs, I don’t think you’re meant to shut it down like that,” said Tony.

“Why?  It works,” said Gibbs.

Tony decided it wasn’t any of his business if Gibbs damaged NCIS property so changed the subject,

“You ready to eat?  Just found that Celia stocked the freezer with some of her peach cobbler.”

“I could go for some of that,” agreed Gibbs.

Food was something that Gibbs and Tony had similar views on so they spent a companionable time over their meal.  Tony persuaded Gibbs to talk about some of their cases and found that, when in the mood, Gibbs had a neat turn of phrase to describe what had happened.  As Gibbs talked about their work together Tony began to see how well they had worked together and could see what McGee had meant when he talked of the two of them not needing to talk to understand one another.

“One thing puzzles me,” said Tony.

“Only one?” smiled Gibbs.

“Good point.  More than one but this in particular.  I know I only did two years in Peoria and Philly.  You tell me I only did about that in Baltimore but I’ve stayed in the same job at NCIS for fifteen years?  It doesn’t sound like me.”

“Wasn’t all the same job,” said Gibbs.

“Oh yeah, the Floating Agent gig,” said Tony.

“Agent Afloat,” corrected Gibbs.  “You weren’t always Senior Field Agent,” said Gibbs.  “And the job changes.  Every day different.  And …”

“And?”

“You were offered another job once.”

“I was?”

“Yep.  You turned it down.”

“I did?  What was the job?”

“Your own team.  Rota, Spain.”

“Rota, Spain.”  Tony rolled the words in his mouth.  “Rota, Spain.  Sounds nice.  Sounds warm.  And sunny.  Why’d I turn it down?”

Gibbs cleared his throat.  “After the explosion.  I … retired … for a spell.  Went to live in Mexico.  You led the team while I was away.  When I came back, took over the team again, the Director offered you your own team.”

“And I turned it down?”

“You told the Director you were worried I wasn’t back to normal.”

“Huh.  Sounds like I must care a lot about you,” said Tony thoughtfully.

“You’re a good agent, Tony.  In my book that means a lot,” said Gibbs.

Tony nodded.  “Long day.  I’m gonna hit the sack.  You up for a walk again tomorrow, Agent Gibbs?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs.

“Good night.  See you in the morning,” said Tony.  Doodle gave a soft bark in echo and the two went off to bed leaving Gibbs in a mellower mood than he had experienced for some time.

NCISNCIS

Tony slept well that night and woke up late to the sound of a conversation in the kitchen.

“You seem happy, Jethro,” said Ducky.

“Happy?” queried Gibbs.

“Well, happier,” amended Ducky.

“Hmph,” said Gibbs.

“I must say it is almost like having the old Anthony back,” mused Ducky.

“Old DiNozzo?”

“When you collected him from Baltimore he was … eager, enthusiastic …”

“You saying he’s not that now?” asked Gibbs.

“Not exactly.  Perhaps I chose my words poorly.  The Anthony we first knew was so full of energy and excitement.”

“Fifteen years, Duck.  DiNozzo’s older now,” reasoned Gibbs.

“Indeed.  And, of course, he is as good at his job as he was then.  Better, because of all the experience.  And despite appearances to the contrary, Anthony has never been _open_ about his feelings; he has always used smoke and mirrors to hide what is really going on.”

“What’s your point, Duck?”

“In recent months it has seemed to me that Anthony has been weary.  Not physically but mentally.”

“We’ve been busy,” said Gibbs.

“Undoubtedly but I think it is more than the pressure of work.  It has seemed, forgive me, that he has been uncertain about his working relationship with you, Jethro.  I think it is that which has contributed to his sense of … oppression.”

“He’s been doing his job fine,” said Gibbs.

“He may have been doing his work but I feel that he has been unhappy doing it.  And that is unusual for Anthony who generally loves his work – the challenge and the puzzle.”

“And you think it’s my fault?” asked Gibbs.

“I wouldn’t say it is entirely your fault,” said Ducky.  “It may be that there has been an unfortunate concatenation of circumstances …”

“A what?”

“You know what I mean.  Your injury and … its effects coupled with Tony being out of the office for so long seem to have led to a fracturing of what was once an excellent working relationship.  Please don’t tell me that I am imagining it – I don’t need my psychology degree to see that something is wrong.”

“Hmph.”  Tony could picture the shrug.

“And I find myself wondering if that is why you volunteered to stay here rather than detailing Timothy for the task.  Could it be that you hope that spending time with Anthony in these bucolic surroundings could lead to a healing of your relationship, to a rapprochement?”

“Don’t know, Duck.  Not sure I think in terms of bucolic or rapprochement.”

“There is no need for prevarication, Jethro,” said Ducky crossly, “We have known each other long enough not to hide behind our words.”

“OK,” said Gibbs, “I admit that I thought it might help to spend some time with DiNozzo outside of work.  But, and it’s a big but, I also reckon that I’d be the best person to be on protection duty.”

“Ah,” said Ducky, “You felt you should be the one on Anthony’s six?  Because you were worried about him?”

“I worry about all my agents, Duck.  I look out for all of them.  No different with DiNozzo.”

“As you will,” sighed Ducky.

At that point Tony decided he didn’t want to hear anything else and made exaggerated ‘getting up’ noises before emerging sleepily from his room.

“Ah, good morning, Anthony,” said Ducky equably, “I trust you slept well?”  Doodle bounded up to him.  “And good morning, Doodle.”

“You want some tea, Ducky?” asked Tony as he moved towards the kitchen.

Ducky shuddered, “No, thank you.  Your tea making skills are on a par with Jethro’s.  I prefer to make my own.”

“Coffee, Gibbs?” asked Tony.

Gibbs nodded.  “Duck, you need to go home.”

“I do?” said Ducky, “Why?”

“DiNozzo’s OK now.  And Duck 2 is around if we need him,” said Gibbs.

“I beg to differ.  Anthony is by no means _OK_ ,” huffed Ducky.  “He …”

“Ducky, I’m a lot better,” said Tony, “And a lot of that is down to you and the switch in painkillers.  It was the nausea which got to me and that’s gone.”

“Well,” said Ducky in a mollified tone.

“And Gibbs is right.  You need to go.”

“Why?” asked Ducky.

Gibbs nodded in approval of Tony’s agreement.  “We think the people who attacked Tony know who he is.  And they’ve worked that out because they know our team was involved with the case.  Anyone who picks up on that will know you work with us, Duck.”

“And you’ve probably been the person most obviously and visibly away from DC,” said Tony.  “Not sure how well your _antiquing_ cover will work.”

“You mean you could be traced through me?” asked Ducky.

“Yep,” said Gibbs.

“But why would they want to be after Anthony?” asked Ducky, “For what purpose?”

“Gibbs figures that I know more than I know I know,” said Tony a little obscurely.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Ducky.

“Reckon DiNozzo found out something big which he didn’t have time to tell anyone,” explained Gibbs.  “That’s why they attacked him to start with.  Now they don’t know if he’s alive or not and they don’t know if he’s told us what he knows but they’re trying to find out.  And if they find him they’ll try and finish what they started.”

“I see,” said Ducky.  “And what is your plan?”

“Haven’t got one yet,” admitted Gibbs.  “Waiting to see what Bishop and McGee dig up.  But, in the meantime, I want you to go back to DC.”

Ducky looked as if he wanted to argue but, from long experience, knew this would be pointless so instead said, “Very well.  But let me examine Anthony one more time before I go.”

“I’ll get McGee to arrange a flight,” said Gibbs, “Try to keep you off the radar.”

Tony, Doodle and Ducky went into his bedroom.  Gibbs picked up his phone to call McGee but it rang before he could make the call.  He smiled when he saw that it was McGee calling; perhaps his team was so attuned to his wishes that they picked them up from 3000 miles away.  He was sure that Abby would have a theory about that but he didn’t think he’d ask her for it.

“McGee,” he said, “Good timing.”

“It is?” asked McGee.

“Got a job for you.”

“Uh, Boss, is Tony near you?”

“He’s with Ducky and the dog.  Why?  You need to speak with him?”

“Er, no.  Um, do you think you could go outside?  Make sure Tony can’t hear you.  I – Abby – we need to talk to you about Tony’s birthday present.”

Gibbs frowned.  The team didn’t make a fuss about birthdays, or rather, Gibbs didn’t make a fuss but he still knew that it was nowhere near DiNozzo’s birthday.  “OK.  Wait a minute.  I’ll take it outside.”  A few seconds later he said in a jovial voice, “OK, spill.”

“Boss, it’s probably nothing,” said McGee anxiously.

“You know,” said Gibbs, “I really hate those words.”

“I know, Boss. Well, I didn’t but I do now,” said McGee.

“What’s probably nothing?” asked Gibbs.

“Bishop and I did a background check …”

“On?”

“On George.  Mr Clarke.  It felt a bit hinky.”

“What did?”

“He lives where he works; never seems to leave Cedaron; dresses shabbily but a lot of money has been poured into the World of Wood.”

“Not everyone splashes the cash,” said Gibbs who tended to approve of people like George even if the cabins were a bit luxurious for his taste.

“I know, Boss.  I know.  But it turns out that he used to be a multi-millionaire, owns half of the town but he lives hidden away like this.”

“Go on.”

“Up until about ten years ago he was much more high profile.  Running his companies.  And he owned a big pharmaceutical company, GCC – it’s one of the biggest in the country.  And then he just gave it all up, handed the day to day running over to his nephew and came back to live in Cedaron.  No reason given.  I haven’t been able to find out what happened to the money.  And, Boss …”

“McGee!”

“We found some pictures of him with Gabriella Sciofa.  They’re just pictures of social occasions and they go back about ten years but … well, we know how you feel about coincidences.”

“And you think they might still be tied together?”

“What if the guys who chased Tony off the bridge worked out where it was headed?  Alerted Clarke that he’d pitch up in Cedaron?”

“Pretty thin, Tim.  How’d he know that Tony would wander past his shop?” objected Gibbs.

“Maybe it was just luck.  If Tony hadn’t arrived under his own steam, then he would have made sure to get him.  We only have Tony’s version of what happened.”

“You think Tony is lying?”

“No, Boss. No, of course not.  I just meant that it seems that Tony was pretty out of it when he left the hospital.  He might not remember what happened and he just believes what Clarke told him.”

“Hmm.  Anything else?”

“Well, Tony didn’t get better until Ducky showed up,” said Tim.  “And Clarke seems real friendly with Dr Allard.”

“You think Allard’s in on it too?”

“I don’t know.  This is all just guesswork.  But he was keen to keep Tony with him while we all went and booked into the hotel.”

“Not sure there’d have been room,” said Gibbs.

“I know, Boss.  And then there’s the cabin.”

“What about it?”

“It could be bugged.  And that signal booster equipment to make sure internet and cells work … well, who knows what that could be doing?  And, Boss, it might be that Tony knew where he was heading.”

“Explain.”

“I know he doesn’t remember now.  But what if he did remember for a while?  And somehow knew that George Clarke was involved with whatever was going on.  And then there’s Celia.”

“What about her?”

“None of us ever saw her, only Tony.  What if she’s really Gabriella Sciofa?  She’s not seen in public very often.  Perhaps she hides out in Cedaron.”

“I don’t know, McGee.  Seems thin,”

“I know, Boss.  We were just being thorough.”

“Rule 8, never assume.  Good work,” said Gibbs.

“What you think, Boss?”

Gibbs found himself hesitating.  He instinctively liked George but knew that a shared love of wood was not necessarily a good basis for trust.  The thing that worried him most was McGee pointing out that Tony seemed only to have begun recovering when he was removed from the care of the Clarkes.

“I’ll let you know,” he said finally.  “Meanwhile, I want you to arrange for a flight for Ducky.  Preferably not a commercial flight.  And get on to the North West field office in Silverdale.  Tell them to be on standby in case we need them.”

“And us, Boss?  What do you want us to do?” asked McGee.

“Send those pictures to my phone.”

“Er, Boss, I don’t think your phone will accept emails,” said McGee.

“Send them to DiNozzo’s then.  And come up here.  Now, quickly but discreetly.  And don’t come into Cedaron until I tell you,” said Gibbs.  “I think it’s time to bring this to a close.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - this chapter ends with a cliff hanger. I intend to update either tomorrow or the day after so if you hate cliff hangers you may want to wait and read both chapters together.

 “That all seems very promising, Anthony,” said Ducky as he took Tony’s pulse and blood pressure.

“Thanks, Ducky.”

“But you still need to take it easy for a little while longer. Walk for exercise rather than run: your body needs to recover gradually,” warned Ducky.

“OK.”

“And continue to take the pain medication as you need it,” said Ducky.

“OK.”

“It seems to me,” said Ducky, “That your sojourn with Jethro has helped you a little.  You seem a little less tense.”

“You mean I’m getting used to missing fifteen years of my life?” asked Tony wryly.

“Not exactly.  And I do not underestimate the anxiety you must be experiencing.  But it seems to me that you are a little more _relaxed_ with Jethro than you were.  Am I correct?”

“I guess.  We’ve disagreed on some things but there have been times when we got on OK.  I’m beginning to see why I might have stuck with him all these years.  Reading old case files has helped although it looks as if there have been people on the team who aren’t around now.”

“Ah,” said Ducky.  “Indeed, we have suffered losses but it does not seem opportune to tell you of those at the moment.”

“I’ve spent most of my working life as a cop, Ducky,” said Tony, “I understand about losing co-workers.”

“It is an occupational hazard, I fear,” said Ducky.

“Ducky …”

“Yes?”

“Do you think my memory will come back?”

“I fear it is impossible to say, my boy.  The case histories are many and varied and the outcome is unpredictable.  I cherish the hope that when your body is completely healed your energies may be channelled towards repairing less obvious injuries.  I know it seems unhelpful, but you will have to just wait and see.”

“It would help the case if I could remember,” said Tony fretfully.

“No doubt, but you can do nothing about that,” said Ducky firmly.

“If my memory doesn’t come back …”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I could go back to being a cop?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“I think it would largely depend on whether the non-return of memory was found to be the result of a brain injury which was causing some other cognitive impairment.  At the moment, that does not seem to be the case.  Apart from the lapse in your memory you seem to be functioning much as you have always done and that is a positive sign.”

“So you think I could go back to work?”

“I would be inclined to think so.  You would, of course, have a learning curve to get back up to speed but I do not think that would be insurmountable.  Is that what you wish to do?”

“I guess.  Being a cop is all I know.  Can’t imagine not doing it.”

“That is good news, Anthony.  And, while it is disturbing that you have had to hide away over the last few days, I think it has a positive outcome – not only have you continued to recover physically but it has been good to see you getting on with Jethro as well as you ever did.”

Tony was about to ask what Ducky meant by this but was interrupted by a bang on the door,

“You finished in there, Duck?” came Gibbs’ voice.

“And, of course,” said Ducky ruefully, “It has enabled you to become acquainted with his impatience!”  He called out, “We will be out momentarily, Jethro.”

“Thank you, Ducky,” said Tony, “For everything.  Not just for the fixing the nausea thing but … for being a listening ear.”

Ducky chuckled, “I like to think that I am as good a listener as I am a talker.  But, when you get to know me better – or when your memory returns – you will know that not many people regard me as a good listener; I am more renowned for my talkativeness.  But it has been my privilege to be your confidant and I hope …”

“Now!” bellowed Gibbs with another bang on the door.

“I fear we have aroused the beast,” said Ducky, “We had best obey the call.”

“What’s up, Gibbs?” asked Tony as he and Ducky came back into the living area.

Gibbs didn’t reply but gestured them to follow him outside.  He waited until he was sure that they were far enough from the cabin before speaking,

“McGee phoned.  He’s been doing some digging into George Clarke.”  Gibbs’ moment of hesitation with McGee had been replaced by his usual decisiveness.  He wasn’t sure whether or not McGee’s findings were suspicious but he felt he had to act on them.  Gibbs was aware that Tony might be affected by the news but he had never _coddled_ DiNozzo before and he didn’t intend to start now.

“What?  Why?” said Tony.

“Rule 8,” said Ducky, “Never assume.”

“He was being thorough,” said Gibbs, “Like a good agent should be.”

“I understand about thoroughness, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony frostily, “I don’t understand digging into the lives of ordinary people.”

“You don’t know anything about them, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs.

“I know that they took me in when I needed help.  I know that they have been nothing but kind to me since I arrived.  That counts for a lot in my book,” said Tony.

“ _Did_ they look after you?” asked Gibbs, “Seems to us that you didn’t start to get better until Ducky arrived and took over your care.”

Ducky coughed, “Jethro does have a point, Anthony.  But I must say that Dr Allard seemed a most competent and trustworthy physician.  It has taken me several years to find the medication best suited to you and I am not surprised that your good doctor did not appreciate that your symptoms were due as much to a reaction to the medication as to the lingering effects of your concussion.”

“They didn’t stop me leaving though, did they?” said Tony. 

“That’s not all,” said Gibbs.  “Seems that Clarke used to be a very successful businessman but his money seems to have disappeared.  He’s got connections to the pharmaceutical industry and McGee found some pictures of him with Gabriella Sciofa.”

“Oh my,” said Ducky.

“What sort of pictures?” asked Tony who seemed concerned for the first time.

“McGee says they’re pictures of social gatherings.  A decade ago.”

“Ten years?  You suspect George on the basis of some meetings ten years ago?  You said that this Gabriella has a drugs company and tries to look legit.  George could have met her quite innocently.  Seems thin to me,” said Tony.

Gibbs nodded as Tony echoed his own words to McGee.  “I know, but it’s odd.  McGee is concerned that the cabin could be bugged.  Even that your attackers knew that the train would end up here and they alerted Clarke to you turning up here.”

“I walked in of my own free will,” said Tony.  “How does McGee think that worked?”

“How much do you remember about walking in?” asked Gibbs.

“Not much,” admitted Tony, “I was pretty beat.  But nobody dragged me in.”

“You might not remember what happened,” suggested Gibbs, “Power of suggestion can be strong when you’re out of it.”

“You’re wrong,” said Tony flatly, “George and Celia are good people.”

“We’re gonna find out,” said Gibbs.  “McGee’s arranging a flight home for Ducky.  We’ll wait here until he lets us know when Ducky can go.  And then I’ll go see Clarke and find out if McGee and Bishop are right.  Either way we leave here today.  If they’re as innocent as you think we should get out of their way.  If McGee and Bishop are right, we need to know.”

Tony nodded unhappily clearly conflicted by the new information but deciding to go along with it for the moment.  The three then settled down in uneasy companionship while they waited to hear from McGee.  It wasn’t long before Tim phoned to say that he’d arranged for Ducky to fly back on a US Navy flight later that day and that he and Bishop were on their way.

It was late afternoon when Ducky needed to leave for his flight. 

“Time to go see Clarke,” announced Gibbs.

“I’m coming with you,” said Tony.

“You sure?” said Gibbs.

“I don’t remember ever having seen you interrogating suspects,” said Tony, “But I don’t imagine you take the gentle approach.  I want to be there when it gets rough.”

Gibbs nodded.  “Here,” he said, “Your weapon and your badge.  Gear up, Special Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony clipped the badge onto his belt and checked to see if the gun was loaded.  “After you, Agent Gibbs.”

Gibbs felt a pang of sadness when Tony didn’t say _On your six, Boss_ but didn’t reply.  Instead he turned to Ducky, “He all right to come?” he asked.

“I cannot imagine being able to stop him,” said Ducky, “And I think it would be a waste of energy to try.  I do, however, insist on coming with you.  There is time before my flight.”

Gibbs glared at both of them, “Come on then,” he said.

Doodle’s ears pricked up at the prospect of a walk and trotted happily at Tony’s heels.  Tony decided, however, to leave the dog in George and Celia’s yard: somehow he didn’t want Doodle to witness any argument with George.

NCISNCIS

George smiled as he saw the three visitors walk in.  He was accustomed to Gibbs wearing a grim expression so wasn’t unduly perturbed to see him scowling.

“Tony!” he said, “You’re looking better.  Life in the forest must agree with you.”

Tony huffed a laugh, “According to NCIS it’s because you and _Duck 2_ no longer have me in your evil clutches.”

Gibbs looked at Tony in exasperation as Tony spoke.

“What?” said George.  “What are you talking about?  I don’t understand.”

“Be quiet, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs.  “Just pointing out that DiNozzo was in bad shape when we arrived but started to get better almost immediately Dr Mallard took over his care.”

“What?  I thought it was down to Tony having a bad reaction to the pills our Dr Duck prescribed,” said George.

“It was,” said Gibbs.

“Then how is it our fault?”

“I think Jethro is suggesting that Dr Allard should have come to that conclusion earlier than he did,” said Ducky helpfully.

“Duck!” said Gibbs, “Leave this to me.”

“You think we were intentionally keeping Tony ill?” asked George.  “But why would we do that?”

“Agents McGee and Bishop did some digging into your business affairs, Mr Clarke,” said Gibbs.  “They found some interesting things.”  He noted with satisfaction that George flushed uneasily although he said nothing.  “Seems you have some connections with the pharmaceutical industry.”

“So? Is that a crime?”

“And that you know Gabriella Sciofa.”

“Who?”

_“_ DiNozzo, look at your phone.  Tim sent some photos to you.  Show them to Mr Clarke.”

Tony took his phone out and opened the message from McGee.  He held it out to Gibbs as if reluctant to play any part in the confrontation.

“Is that you?” asked Gibbs as he showed the photos to George.

George peered at the pictures, “Yes, that’s me.  A long time ago.”

“And who’s that with you?” asked Gibbs.

“I don’t remember,” said George.

“That’s convenient,” said Gibbs.  “Look again.”

“How do you expect me to remember from that long ago?” asked George.

“How do you know it’s a long time ago?” demanded Gibbs.

“Agent Gibbs, perhaps you haven’t changed your hairstyle or clothes in the last ten years but I have.  That’s how I know.  And also because that’s a pharmaceutical industry convention and I haven’t attended one of those for ten years.  I _deduced_ that it’s a long time ago.  Those conventions are meet and greet occasions:  I must have met dozens of people at that one and I don’t remember them all.”

“DiNozzo,” said Gibbs as he showed the phone to Tony, “You recognise anyone in this picture?”

Tony looked at the photos, “I recognise George.  You’ve aged well, George,” he said.

“Thanks,” said George.

“You recognise anyone else?” pressed Gibbs.

Tony blinked as he looked again, “No,” he said.

“You sure?” asked Gibbs.

“Am I in the habit of lying to you, Gibbs?” asked Tony.

“No.  So that’s not Celia in the picture?”

Tony looked again.  “She’s the same age and height but no, it’s not Celia.”

“What’s going on, Agent Gibbs?” demanded George.  “What do you think my sister has been doing?”

“Gabriella Sciofa is suspected of running an illegal drugs ring.  She’s also reclusive and rarely seen.  Sound familiar?” said Gibbs.

“My sister’s name is Celia, not Gabriella,” said George stiffly.

“And what happened to all your money?  Why are you holed up here away from everyone?” pressed Gibbs.

George’s customary amiable expression faded from his face to be replaced by something much more stern and cold.  “It’s not a crime to live quietly, Agent Gibbs.”

“It is if it’s a way of hiding crime,” said Gibbs.

“I’m going to call my lawyer, Agent Gibbs,” said George.  “If you have any more questions for me you can do it in her presence.”

“George,” said Tony, “Please, tell him what he needs to know.  Then we can be gone.”

“You’re leaving?” asked George.

“We think it will be safer for you and Celia,” said Tony.

“So you don’t think I’m a master criminal?” said George with a wry smile.

“No.  But my co-workers would probably remind me that I’m not fully functioning at the moment,” said Tony.  “I reckon Gibbs’ gut is pretty good.  Tell him what he needs to know and he’ll know if you’re telling the truth.”

George hesitated, “I’m sorry, Tony.  I want to help you but I won’t risk Celia’s wellbeing.  I’ll wait for legal advice.”

“You got something to hide?” asked Gibbs in the tone of voice which often got a confession.

“You won’t make me angry … or scared,” said George coldly.

“You sure about that?” asked Gibbs.

“I’m sure,” said George as he returned Gibbs’ stare.  Then he looked over Gibbs’ shoulder, “I think you’re about to find out the truth.”

Gibbs and Tony whirled around and saw three men walking into the store.  They were all wearing masks and gloves and held guns in their hands.  Tony and Gibbs suspected two of them were Penrose and O’Driscoll but it was impossible to tell.

“I think it’ll be early closing day,” said Masked Man 1 pleasantly as he locked the main door.

“Didn’t Gabby get my message?” asked George.

“Who?” asked Masked Man 2.

“Gabriella,” said George, “Her old friends call her Gabby.  Didn’t you know?”

“Ah,” said Masked Man 2, “I’d forgotten.  When did you send the message?”  He exchanged a look with his companions but made sure they were all focussed on their captives.

Gibbs was stony faced as he listened to the conversation between George and the new arrivals.

“Gabriella,” said Ducky, “Such an attractive name, don’t you think?  It derives from Gabriel, of course.  The angel Gabriel is the most well-known use of the name.  I have always thought …”

“Hey,” said the hitherto silent third man, “Shut it, old man.  Before we shut it for you.”

“I was …” began Ducky.

“My friend is crude … but I regret to say that he is perfectly accurate in this case,” said Masked Man1 with mock sorrow.

“Duck,” said Gibbs as he saw that Ducky might want to continue with his diversion, “No,” he shook his head.

“We seem to have strayed from the point,” said Masked Man 2.  “When did you send the message?”

George seemed to think, “Two, three days ago.  Up till then I’d managed to keep Stromboli under close observation and nobody seemed to be after him.  Then he moved out.  I thought it best to let Gabby know that I still had it under control.”

“Because the cabin was bugged?” asked Tony.

“That’s right,” said George coldly, “I knew everything that was going on.”

“ _Gabby_ didn’t tell us,” said Masked Man 2 with apparent concern.

“No,” said Masked Man1, “We didn’t know that she had a partner.”

“We thought it was best to keep it quiet,” said George.

“How often do you speak with Gabby?” asked Masked Man 2.

“Not often,” said George.  “I’m more of a sleeping partner.”

“But you knew about this guy?” said Masked Man1 jerking his gun towards Tony.

“Of course.  Gabby keeps me informed even if we don’t speak often,” said George.

“Well,” said Masked Man 2, “This puts a different perspective on things.”

“I have it under control,” said George.  “This man,” he gestured towards Gibbs, “Is …”

Masked Man1 interrupted him.  “You know, I think I’d better phone Gabriella.  See what she wants us to do.”

“That’s not necessary,” said George, “As I said, I have it under control.”

“And it would be difficult,” said Masked Man 2.  “I mean, to call her.”

“Then don’t,” said George, “There’s no need.”

“George,” said Tony, “Stop talking.”

“Stromboli?” said George in a harder tone of voice than he usually used with Tony.

“Somehow, I don’t think there’s any point,” said Tony staring at the men with guns.  He noticed that Gibbs nodded in agreement.

Masked Man 2 ignored this byplay.  “Hey,” he said to his companion, “You said something about your cell coverage, didn’t you?  How great it is?”

“That’s right,” replied Masked Man1, “But it doesn’t extend to the afterlife.”

“What?” said George.

“I’m guessing Gabriella Sciofa is dead,” said Gibbs. 

“And these goons have been using her as a front,” contributed Tony.

“Very good,” said Masked Man 2.  “I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at,” he said to George, “But it’s a dangerous game.”

“And you just lost,” said Masked Man 3 with an unpleasant smile.

George seemed to crumple as he realised that his ruse hadn’t worked.

“Take their weapons – and their phones,” Masked Man1 ordered the third man, “If they cause any trouble shoot the old men.”

Masked Man 3 obeyed and Tony and Gibbs were soon stripped of their guns and knives and all four had their cells taken away.

“So, why’d you choose to hide out here, Stromboli?” asked Masked Man 2, “Or should I say, DiNozzo?”

“Seemed as good a place as any,” shrugged Tony.  “I’d heard about George.  Former ties with pharmaceuticals.  I thought I’d use what I picked up while undercover.”

“Set up on your own?” asked Masked Man1.

“Why not?” said Tony.

“You sure about that?” asked Masked Man 2.  “You don’t look the sort to go bad.”

“That’s why I’m good at undercover work,” said Tony, “It’s best not to look like a cop.”

“You know,” said Masked Man1, “I’m getting tired of all these games.  It doesn’t matter whether or not you’ve gone bad.  You still know too much and we don’t plan on going into business with you.”  He turned to the third man, “Tie them up,” he ordered.

A few moments later and Gibbs, Tony, George and Ducky were securely tied up.  Masked Man 2 looked around and spotted the store room where the cafeteria supplies were kept.  “Lock them in there,” he said.  “No, not you, DiNozzo.  You’re coming with us.”

Gibbs took a step forward, ready to try and protect Tony but stopped when he saw that the third man had a gun trained on Ducky.  “Good choice,” said Masked Man 2.

As the door slammed shut on the store room, the last thing Gibbs saw was a hood being put over Tony’s head as he was led out of the shop.


	9. Chapter 9

“What the hell were you thinking?”  demanded Gibbs as he struggled against his bonds.

“It might have worked,” said George as he also tried to wriggle free.  “It was worth a try.”

“And may I say that I commend your quick thinking, Mr Clarke,” said Ducky.  “It was really most ingenious.”

“Didn’t work though, did it?” said Gibbs sourly.

“Perhaps somebody will notice that the shop is closed,” said Ducky optimistically, “Or someone will notice that we are missing.”

“Who?  The dog?” asked Gibbs crossly.

“We won’t have to wait long,” said George serenely, “Celia will have called the police.”

Gibbs relaxed minutely at the news that he would soon be released and began to turn his mind to what to do next.

“Don’t suppose you injected DiNozzo with anything, Duck?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Ducky.

“You know.  Some sort of radioactive thingummy that we could trace,” explained Gibbs.

Ducky stared at Gibbs, “That would be most unwise, Jethro.  Even if I had access to such a compound it would be medically unethical for me to administer it …”

“OK, Duck,” said Gibbs with resignation, “Didn’t really expect …

“Which is why,” said Ducky speaking over Gibbs majestically, “Which is why Abby and I fitted a tracker device to Anthony’s watch when we brought it from his apartment.”

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“Was that not in order?” asked Ducky innocently.

“Duck,” said Gibbs, “When we get back to DC I’m going to buy you a whole crate of tea.”

“That is very generous of you, Jethro, but I would prefer a bottle of single malt Scotch,” said Ducky.  “Hark, I believe I hear our rescuers at the door.”

Gibbs barrelled past the police officers who opened the door to the store room and made straight for his cell.  He cursed when he saw that it had been smashed.

“Where’s the landline?” he demanded of George.

George pointed the way and Gibbs ran towards it.  He dialled McGee’s number first but got no answer.  He slammed the phone down and rang NCIS instead trying to curb his impatience as he waited to be put through to Abby’s lab.  While he waited he ordered Ducky to liaise with the police officers to put out a BOLO on Tony.  Finally, he got through to Abby.

“Abby Scuito.  Forensic scientist extraordinaire,” she began.

“Abby,” said Gibbs, “Listen, don’t talk.  Tony’s been taken.  Ducky said you put some sort of tracker in his watch.  Get on it now.”  It said much for the tone of Gibbs’ voice that Abby said nothing but did as she was told.

“Bringing it on-line now,” she said.  “Gibbs, what’s happened?  Is Tony OK?”

“Three guys showed up.  They locked us up and took Tony away,” said Gibbs.  “You got this number?  My cell’s been smashed.  Call back when you have something.”  He was about to put the phone down when George offered him another cell,

“Take this one.  It’s Celia’s.  It’ll be easier to keep in touch with it.  Shall I hold on for Abby?” he asked.

Gibbs nodded in approval and took the proffered phone.  “Uh,” he said, “I’m not good with these cleverphones.  Can you call this number?”

George nodded.  “Smartphones,” he murmured, “Not cleverphones.  It’s ringing,” he handed it back to Gibbs.

“McGee,” said Gibbs, “Where are you?”

“Luxton, Boss,” said McGee.  “About 30 minutes from where you are.”

“DiNozzo’s been taken,” said Gibbs.

“Is he all right?” asked Tim.

“He was OK when they took him,” said Gibbs.  “Abby and Ducky put some sort of tracker in his watch.  Abby’s on it now.  Tell the Silverdale people we’ll need them.”

“I just had a call from them,” said Tim, “They’ve got an incident at Kitsap Naval Base.  They haven’t got anyone available to support.”

“Damn.  OK, the local police are putting out a BOLO on DiNozzo.  I’ll get on to Fornell.  Tell him to get the local FBI to help.  My cell’s been smashed so call me on this one.”

“On it, Boss,” said Tim.  “Um, …”

“What, McGee?” snapped Gibbs.

“Nothing, Boss,” said Tim, “No point speculating now.”

Gibbs nodded and ended the call.

“Abby needs to speak with you,” said George holding out the receiver.

“Abs?  What you got?” asked Gibbs.

“The watch is still on the move,” said Abby a little tremulously.  “Heading west on the Magna Highway.  Looks to be travelling fast.  I’m trying to see if I get any satellite coverage of the area.”

“Good work, Abby.  Send the co-ordinates to McGee.  He’ll tell you what number to get me on.”

“OK, Gibbs.  And Gibbs …”

“Yes?”

“Find him.  We can’t lose him again.”

“On it, Abs,” said Gibbs as he ended the call.  “Duck, you know how to use one of these brightphone things?”

“Smartphone?  Yes, indeed.  Mr Palmer was most instructive,” said Ducky.

“You’re with me then,” said Gibbs, “I’ll need to make some calls.  Your rental still outside?”

“Yes,” said Ducky, brief for once.

“Let’s go then.  I’ll drive, you phone the numbers I give you.”

A few minutes later, as Ducky and Gibbs hurtled along having made the call to Fornell and with Abby on the alert to tell them if the car left the Magna Highway, Ducky said,

“Why did they take Anthony?  It doesn’t make sense.  If they feel he knows something which is dangerous for them why did they not simply kill him?  Is it possible that they believed Anthony when he suggested he was a dirty cop?”

“Don’t think so, Duck,” said Gibbs.  “I think DiNozzo has something they want.  It’s not something in his head they need, they think he has something of theirs which they’re desperate to retrieve.”

“Oh my,” said Ducky, “But Anthony has no memory of such a thing”.

“And DiNozzo is stubborn.  He wouldn’t tell them anything even if he did remember,” said Gibbs.

“Do you think that is why Anthony appeared to have been beaten at the time of his disappearance?” asked Ducky.  “I had wondered why he had been assaulted before fleeing.  I would surmise that someone tried to beat the truth out of him.”

“Guess so,” said Gibbs.

“Perhaps this will work in Anthony’s favour,” said Ducky hopefully.  “His captors want something from him; they are not merely out to silence him.”

“Not sure DiNozzo’s going to be feeling grateful,” said Gibbs wryly.

NCISNCIS

An hour or so later, Gibbs, McGee, Bishop, Ducky, some Cedaron police officers and two FBI agents deputed by Agent Fornell were gathered at the end of a rutted lane.

“Abby sure this is where they holed up?” asked Gibbs.

“Yes, Boss,” said Ellie.  “She tracked the watch all the way.”

“She’s in contact with Ashton,” added McGee.  “She said you’d remember Ashton.  He works for NASA.  She says he got her some satellite coverage for a case before.  When I was still at Norfolk, before I joined the team.  She’s still in touch with him.”

“Am I interested in this?” asked Gibbs.

“Yes, well, no.  Well yes, because it means that he can get eyes on where the bad guys are,” said McGee.

“Seem to remember it kept cutting out,” said Gibbs disapprovingly as he remembered the old case.

“Uh, yes.  But technology has improved a lot,” said McGee earnestly, “The resolution is better and they use … but you’re not interested in that either,” he trailed off.

“What sort of place is this?” asked Gibbs.

“An old saw mill,” said Bishop with a sympathetic look at McGee.  “Been empty for a while.  The owner started to convert it into holiday accommodation but ran out of money.  He rents it out sometimes for people who don’t mind it being basic.  Said that someone phoned this morning and booked it for a week.  He hasn’t seen them.  it was all done over the phone.”

“He emailed me blueprints of the place,” said McGee, “He had them drawn up by an architect to help with the planning.  There’s a door at the front and another at the back.”

“OK,” said Gibbs, “Listen up, everyone.  McGee and Bishop circle round and see what you can observe at the back.  I’ll take the front.  Everyone else, stay here.  Keep the noise down.  Be on the alert and ready to move if we have to.  Keep listening in to the radios.”

McGee and Bishop nodded agreement.  As they turned to go, Gibbs said, “Quiet and careful.  No risks.  We don’t want to spook anyone.  Understood?”

“Yes, Boss,” came the reply.

Gibbs walked stealthily through the trees and bushes lining the lane to the old saw mill.  When he got to the end of the lane he lay down and observed the house through binoculars.  He could see that rooms upstairs and downstairs were lit up but the curtains were pulled across and he could see nothing.  Gibbs sighed as he tried to formulate a plan to extricate Tony.  Somehow he thought that time was running out, the crooks would know they were being hunted although they could expect to have more time before being found.  A SWAT team was on its way but Gibbs was unsure about whether they would arrive in time.

Gibbs was just deciding to return to the others when he heard two shots being fired.  Realising that time had run out he began to run towards the house but as he did so he heard an upstairs window being opened, and then saw Tony climbing out.  As he watched, Tony lowered himself from the sill and then crashed to the ground.  Gibbs ran up with gun drawn and hissed into his radio,

“McGee!  Bishop!  Tony’s out.  Shots fired!”  He knelt beside Tony and grimaced when he saw that, once again, his Senior Field Agent appeared to be a walking bruise.  Tony’s eyes were closed.  Gibbs put a gentle hand to the back of his head to feel for damage.  Tony opened his eyes with a bewildered expression on his face,

“Gibbs!  Did you just _ruffle_ my hair?”

Before Gibbs could answer, the local police and FBI agents came running down the lane in time to see McGee and Bishop leading two men out in handcuffs.

“Need an ambulance, Gibbs,” said Ellie, “The other one is still in there.  He’s been shot.”

Tim and Ellie handed their captives over to the police and came to peer at Tony who said again,

“Gibbs!  Did you just _ruffle_ my hair?”

“Be grateful it wasn’t a head slap,” grinned McGee.

“What?” asked Tony.

“How you doing, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs ignoring Tony’s question.

“I’m fine,” said Tony peevishly, “I’ve had a great time being used as a punch bag by those three goons.”

“What happened?” asked Ellie.

“They underestimated me,” said Tony smugly, “Thought I was worse off than I was.  I managed to grab a gun.  Shot one of them and ran upstairs.  The main doors were locked so I couldn’t get out that way.  How’d you find me anyway?”

“Abby,” said Gibbs simply, “And Ducky.”

“They put a tracking device in your watch,” said Ellie.

“Oh,” said Tony.  “Oh.”

“You OK to stand up?” asked Gibbs.

Tony cast another peevish glare at Gibbs, “Course I am.”  He shifted uncomfortably before holding out his hand, “But you can help if you want.”

Gibbs grinned and took the hand but as soon as Tony put weight on his leg he fell back down.

“Think I might have banged my knee,” he said.

“You think?” said Gibbs.  “McGee, go get Ducky.  See what he thinks.”

Ducky’s opinion was given briefly and forcefully which mean that Tony was soon on his way to the Cedaron Community Hospital from which he had walked out all those weeks before.

NCISNCIS

“How is he, Duck?” asked Gibbs as Ducky emerged from the ER sometime later.

“Battered, bruised and sorry for himself,” said Ducky.  “But, remarkably, he has no concussion and no broken bones.  He has jarred his knee and will need to use crutches until it has settled down once more.  He was very lucky.”

“Can we see him?” asked Ellie.

“Of course,” said Ducky graciously.  “Dr Zib has decreed that Anthony should stay in overnight but, barring any unforeseen complications, he should be released in the morning.  He is very tired so I would not recommend a long visit.”

Ellie, McGee and Gibbs trailed along behind Ducky as he led them to a curtained cubicle.

“You have visitors, Anthony,” he announced as he swept the curtains aside.

Tony was propped up with pillows and did indeed look sorry for himself.

“Hey, guys!” he waved a weary hand.  “Thanks for finding me.  Not sure what I’d have done if you hadn’t shown up.  Don’t think my escape plan was fully thought through!”

“You did what you had to,” said Gibbs approvingly.

“And what was it you said about something in my watch?” asked Tony.

“Ah, yes,” said Ducky, “Abby and I thought it wise to do something to ensure you did not slip from our hands again.”

“I guess I should say thank you,” said Tony, “Although - do we still have laws about invasion of privacy?”

“Yes,” said Ducky, “But I assure you that we were not trying to spy on you.  Indeed …”

Tony waved his weary wave again, “Relax, Ducky.  Just kidding.  You can bug me anytime you want.”

“I trust that the necessity will not arise again,” said Ducky feeling this would be a triumph of hope over experience.

“Me too,” said Tony.

“Was it bad?” asked Ellie sympathetically.

Tony tried a half-hearted glare out of a black eye.  “Wasn’t my most fun time, Agent Bishop.”

“Sorry,” said Ellie, “That didn’t come out right.  I know it was bad, I was just … well, sometimes it’s good to talk about these things.  Not bottle them up.”

“Not tonight,” said Tony.

“Statement can wait,” said Gibbs.  “Why don’t the rest of you head out.  I’ll be along later.”

McGee, Bishop and Ducky trooped out obediently.  Tony seemed to relax a little when the cubicle emptied.

“Thanks, Gibbs,” he said.  “I know she meant well but, at the moment, I’m trying to forget what happened.  Which is ironic.”

“How so?”

“I’ve spent weeks wanting to remember things and now, when I want to forget something, I can’t!”

“Did you work out why they were beating up on you?” asked Gibbs.

“What?” asked Tony.

“Were they doing it because they like hurting people or because they wanted something?” asked Gibbs.

“Well,” said Tony thoughtfully, “I kinda got the idea that punching me was fun for them.  But no, you’re right, they seemed to be after something.”

“And you don’t know what that might be?” asked Gibbs.

Tony’s glare was tired but still effective.  “No.  I don’t remember.  Believe me, I’d have told them.  Probably.”

“Leave it for now,” said Gibbs mildly.  “It can wait.  FBI are going to keep an eye on you.  I’ll go back to the hotel.  I’ve got to report to Vance.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey,” said Tony, “Could you drop in on George and Celia?  Tell them I’m all right.  And that I’m sorry they got dragged into this.”

“Will do,” promised Gibbs.  “You need anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Tony’s eyes slid shut.  Gibbs was nearly out of the cubicle when he heard Tony say, “Get Abby to look in my shoe.”

Gibbs looked back but Tony was fast asleep.

NCISNCIS

Tim collected Tony from the hospital the next morning and, ignoring Tony’s protests, insisted on using a wheelchair to transport him to the car.

“You OK?” Tim asked when they were finally ready to drive off.

“Why do people keep asking me that?” asked Tony, “When everyone can see that I’m one big bruise?”

“I just meant, are you all alright to drive off?  Do you need anything?” said McGee.

“Sorry, Tim,” said Tony.  “I’m cranky this morning.  I didn’t sleep real well.”

“Not surprising,” said Tim. “Still, I’m glad we got you back, even if you are cranky.”

 They soon arrived at the World of Wood and went inside to find Gibbs, Bishop and Ducky waiting for them.

“You look worse than you did yesterday,” observed Gibbs.

“Thanks, Gibbs,” said Tony as he lowered himself on to a chair.

“At least this time, dear boy, the medication will assist rather than harm,” said Ducky.

“What’s going on?” asked Tony as he became aware of suppressed excitement among his companions.

“Abby looked in your shoe,” said Ellie excitedly.

“What?” asked Tony.

“Last night,” said Gibbs, “As I left, you said that Abby should look in your shoe.”

“I did?”  Oh, yes, I did.  It was probably a waste of time but I had this idea,” said Tony.

“What idea?” asked Ducky.

“Agent Gibbs told me about my concealed knife.  And, you know, Ducky perhaps you should have got me another one of those as well as a bugged watch.  Could have come in useful yesterday,” said Tony.

“I will bear that in mind if a similar situation should recur,” promised Ducky.

“Anyways, I remembered that when I was in Philly, one of the detectives who did undercover work showed me this shoe he had.  It had a hollow heel that he could stash things in if he needed to.  I thought that was a cool idea.  So when Gibbs told me I had a hidden knife I got to wondering if I’d had a special shoe made too.”

“You did,” said McGee.

“I did?”

“Yep,” said Gibbs.  “Abby looked last night.  There was a flash drive in it along with a piece of paper with a password on it.”

“You’d put it in a plastic bag for protection,” said Ellie.

“Abby got fingerprints off it,” said Tim.

“Whose?” asked Tony.

“Not yours.  Jake Penrose’s” said Ellie.

“And what’s on the flash drive?” asked Tony.

“Bank account details, lists of phone numbers, dates and times of meetings … all the workings of the drug deals that Penrose and O’Driscoll were doing,” said Gibbs.  “Abby’s still working on it but it looks as if the whole operation will be blown wide open.  Some of the accounts will have been closed but we’ll still be able to trace things back to them.  No wonder they were worried.”

“What do you think happened?” asked Tony.

“I guess you stole the flash drive,” said Gibbs.  “They realised and went after you.  Tried to beat it out of you but you got away.  They couldn’t risk you using the information.”

“Wow,” said Tony.  “Wow.”

“It’s turned out to be bigger than just the Navy involvement,” said McGee, “So it looks as if the FBI will be taking over some of the investigation.  Their first job is to find Gabriella Sciofa.”

“I fear they will not find her,” said Ducky.  “Our _visitors_ yesterday did after all refer to needing a phone line to the afterlife if they were to contact her.”

“They killed her?” asked Tony.

“We don’t know,” said Gibbs, “She might have died and they decided to keep it hidden.  She was a useful face, a front, for their scheme.”

“What happens now?” asked Tony.

“Now we’ve found the flash drive we’re pretty sure you’re out of danger,” said Gibbs.  “Protection duty is over.  We’re heading back to DC.  You coming?”

Ducky saw Tony’s hesitation.  “I think it would be wiser for Anthony to remain here for the present, Jethro.  Apart from anything else I believe he would struggle to get into a plane at the moment.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ducky.  I’d rather rest up here for a few days,” said Tony.

“Very well.  I am always gratified when my medical opinion is respected,” said Ducky.  “Why don’t you go and lie down for a little while.  I will be in to conduct a final examination before I leave.”

Tony nodded, clearly surprised to feel so weary so quickly.

“Thanks, guys,” he said to Bishop and Tim, “For everything.”

“We’ll see you again though, won’t we?” asked Ellie anxiously.

“Yeah, you’re coming back, aren’t you?” said Tim.

“Sure,” said Tony easily, “I’m like a bad penny.”

He shook hands with Tim and hugged Ellie gently before going into his old room.  Gibbs followed him.

“You OK staying here?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” said Tony.

“You sure?” asked Gibbs.

“I’m not sure about much at the moment,” said Tony.  “There’s a lot to think about.  Decisions to be made.  This seems as good a place as any to rest up.”

“You’re a good agent, Tony,” said Gibbs, “Hiding that flash drive thing proves that.  You’re going to be responsible for bringing a whole drugs organization down.  You can be proud of that.”

“Just wish I could remember it,” said Tony morosely.

“You will,” said Gibbs confidently.  “You will.  And until _you_ remember and can be proud … well, _I’m_ proud of you and for you.”

“Thanks, Gibbs,” said Tony, “That means a lot.  Um, Gibbs, I …”

He stopped as Ducky bustled in at that moment and said, “I don’t believe Anthony needs to have an audience for this examination … so perhaps you would like to leave, Jethro?”

“Director Vance sends his thanks and good wishes,” said Gibbs.  He held out his hand and Tony shook it.  “Semper Fi,” he said before leaving.

“Now, Anthony,” said Ducky a few minutes later as he finished his tests.  “That all seems in order.  Painful, of course, but in order.  Now, Dr Zib and I thought that a painkiller injection might be helpful for you today rather than constantly having recourse to pills.”

“No,” said Tony, “That’s fine.  No injection.  I don’t mind taking the pills.  And I promise to take them.”

“Oh,” said Ducky, “Very well, if you are quite sure …”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Tony firmly.

“Well, in that case, I shall leave you in the capable hands of Drs Zib and Allard.  I am leaving them detailed instructions about your medical history, you will be pleased to know,” said Ducky.

“Great,” said Tony who didn’t sound very pleased.

A few minutes later he and George stood at the entrance to the store and waved the MCRT goodbye.  George clapped Tony gently on the shoulder,

“Stay as long as you want,” he said, “You’re always welcome.”

NCISNCIS

Three days later Tony was sitting outside the cabin in the forest.  He was absentmindedly stroking Doodle who was luxuriating in the attention.

“Mr Clarke told me I would find you here,” came Ducky’s voice.

“Ducky!” said Tony in surprise, “What are you doing here?  Come to finish your antiquing?”

“No,” said Ducky.  “No.  I decided I needed to ask you a question.”

“Long way to come to ask me a question,” observed Tony.

“Indeed, but this is an important one and I thought it merited the journey,” said Ducky.

“Ask away,” said Tony. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know when it was that your memory came back.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

_“I want to know when it was that your memory came back,” said Ducky._

“Ducky?”

Tony stopped stroking Doodle who promptly nudged his hand in a reminder to resume the petting.

“Anthony, I would guess that for some people patience comes with age.  I fear it is not so with me.  With the sands of my time running out I find I do not wish to waste what time I have left with prevarication and obfuscation,” replied Ducky.

“What?”

“You know what I mean, Anthony,” said Ducky severely, “So let us not insult one another’s intelligence by pretending otherwise.”

Tony started patting Doodle again and sighed, “I don’t remember anything about the undercover op,” he said.

“Not my question,” said Ducky.

“How did you know?”

“I took a blood sample for Dr Pitt soon after I arrived in Cedaron.  You didn’t object but simply rolled your sleeve up.  When I suggested a painkiller injection the other day you refused point-blank.  When I first knew you, needles held no terrors for you but your bout with the plague changed that for you.  Ergo, I deduced that some at least of your memories had returned in the interval between the two examinations.”

“Ah,” said Tony.

“When did you start remembering?  And why did you not tell us?” asked Ducky sternly.

Tony played with Doodle’s ear and elicited a sound of delight from the dog.  Tony smiled down at him,

“It’s odd.  I still don’t remember anything about the undercover stuff but when Gibbs showed me the picture of George and Gabriella Sciofa something clicked and I seemed to know that she was either dead or no longer on the scene.  Maybe that was the start of it.”

“But something else happened?” asked Ducky.

“After I escaped, when I was lying on the ground, Gibbs ran up and …”

“And?” prompted Ducky.

“He put his hand on the back of my head.  And it felt odd.  At first I thought it was just weird that Gibbs would touch me there but later that night it came to me why it was so weird.”

“Because it would usually have been a slap and not a gentle touch,” said Ducky.

“Yeah.  And when I realised … remembered … that, then a lot of other things came back,” said Tony.

“Good Lord,” said Ducky, “I was wrong.”

“You were?  About what?” asked Tony.

“Before you and Jethro set off for your sylvan sojourn I warned him that your memories could not be head slapped into returning.  It seems I was incorrect.”

Ducky and Tony stared at each other for a moment or two and then burst out laughing.  Doodle looked alarmed at first but, when he realised that the humans weren’t laughing at him, he relaxed and once again tried to prod Tony into resuming the patting.

“Oh, God,” said Tony when he was finally able to catch his breath, “Gibbs really is all powerful.”

“It would seem so,” said Ducky wiping a tear from his eye.  “But why didn’t you tell anyone, Anthony?  You must have known that we were anxious.”

“I know, Ducky.  But it was sort of overwhelming, you know.  I had all these memories, pictures flooding back but, at the same time, I had my memories of the last few days.  Of seeing you all as strangers, of my first impressions of you overlaid with the older memories.  And I wasn’t sure which were the truer.  I needed a few days to come to terms with it all,” said Tony.

“I see,” said Ducky.

“And it doesn’t remind you of anything?” asked Tony cheekily.

“Now that it is real proof that your memory has returned,” said Ducky with mock severity.  “And no, it doesn’t remind me of anything and that is because each case of recovery from amnesia is different.  And, even if it did remind me of another case, I would not allow you to divert me from what is really at issue here.”

“Sorry, Ducky.  Really, I am.  I didn’t mean to keep you all in the dark but I needed time.”

“Why?  What problem does the return of your memories cause you, Anthony?”

“I guess the problem that was there before Vance sent me off on that undercover op,” said Tony.

“Ah,” said Ducky.

“You were all hinting at it,” said Tony, “You all said how well I _used_ to work with Gibbs and the implication was that something had changed.  And when my memories came back I knew that you were all right.”

“And?” asked Ducky.

“And I’m trying to … hell, I don’t know what I’m trying to do!  Gibbs and I got on well enough when we were in the cabin.  It seemed to me that we were both trying to get to know one another.  I guess I was trying to find out who Gibbs was and Gibbs … well, perhaps he was trying to get to know a DiNozzo who didn’t remember him, who’d had his slate wiped clean.”

“And have you come to any conclusions?”

“Nope.  I have a feeling that Gibbs preferred me with my memory gone.  In any case, he was nicer to me than he has been for months … years,” mused Tony.

“I am sure that Gibbs cares deeply about everyone on his team,” said Ducky.  “You know how he regards you all as his family.”

“I know, Ducky.  Do you know the term _paterfamilias_?”

“Of course.  In ancient Rome the head of the family was held to have complete authority and control over all family members.  He could sell them into slavery and, in theory at least, had power of life and death.  The _paterfamilias_ was responsible for ensuring that family members were good citizens and contributed to the family wellbeing.”

“Sound familiar?” said Tony.  “I don’t think Gibbs knows that those laws don’t apply these days, even if I do have Italian ancestry.”

“I believe that Gibbs thinks he exercises his authority benignly,” said Ducky.

“Perhaps,” said Tony.  “Perhaps he just doesn’t see me as part of the family anymore.”

“What are you going to do, Anthony?”

“Did you tell Gibbs your suspicions?  You know, that the DiNozzo brain is firing on all its faulty cylinders again?”

“I deprecate your belief that your brain functions less well than that of the other members of the team,” said Ducky, “So I would not, in any event, have framed my _suspicions_ in those terms but no, I did not confide in Jethro.  But he will know soon enough.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?  I understand you needing time to adjust to your new situation but surely you will have to make your recovery known?”

“I guess.  But you won’t tell anyone?” asked Tony.

“Despite your initial misgivings about being treated by a _dead person doctor_ ,” said Ducky, “I assure you that I fully respect the duties of confidentiality expected by living patients.  So, no, I will not tell anyone.”

“Thanks, Ducky.  And thanks for looking after me … and listening.”

“Anthony, you may be doubting your place in the NCIS family but I assure you that nobody else does.”

“Except Gibbs,” said Tony ruefully.

Ducky looked at Tony; he wanted to continue the discussion but somehow knew that Tony had nothing more that he wanted to say.

“Very well.  I will say no more although, of course, I am always ready to listen if you wish to avail yourself of the opportunity.”

“Thanks, Ducky.  There is one thing …”

“Yes?”

“It’s more of a medical thing,” said Tony.

“My dear boy, I am only too ready to assist,” said Ducky eagerly, “I was remiss not to enquire about your recovery from the kidnapping.”

“Oh,” said Tony, “No, I’m fine.  Well, getting there.  No, it’s not for me.”

“Then whom?” asked Ducky.

“Celia,” said Tony.

“I confess that I am not entirely surprised,” said Ducky, “I had surmised that it was something more than _shyness_ that caused her to shun our presence.  How may I help?”

“Come and talk to her,” said Tony.  “Or, rather, talk to George.”

NCISNCIS

“Anthony has suggested that I talk to you about your sister, Mr Clarke,” said Ducky later that afternoon when he and Tony had come back from the cabin.

“Tony?” asked George in surprise.

“I think it’s time,” said Tony.

“What?” asked George.

“Dr Mallard is more than a Medical Examiner,” said Tony, “He also has a degree in psychology and is a whizz at compiling psychological profiles.  I think he could be helpful.  And he’s easy to talk to.”

“I don’t know,” said George doubtfully.

“Mr Clarke, why don’t you tell me what you know about your sister’s condition.  I will make us all some tea and we can relax … you can be assured that I will not take umbrage if you decide not to avail yourself of my services,” said Ducky soothingly.

Almost against his will, George found himself setting the closed sign on the store’s door and sitting at a table in the cafeteria area with Tony.  A few minutes later Ducky brought the tea over and indicated that George should begin.

“Celia’s always been shy, right from when we were children but she had such a thirst for life and new experiences that she overcame her fears and did everything that she wanted to.  She went to college and majored in fine art and public relations.  When I set my pharmaceutical company up she was the obvious person to be responsible for marketing.  She got married and had a son, Emerson.  Everything seemed to be wonderful and then …”

“And then?” asked Ducky.

“It started to crumble.   Six months after Emerson was born she began to withdraw, she lost confidence and didn’t want to go out.  She was diagnosed with postnatal depression.  And we got the best help possible and she seemed to get better although she insisted she would never have another child,” said George.  He took a sip of the tea.  “You make good tea, Dr Mallard.”

Ducky smiled, “I have a lifetime’s experience.  Please continue.”

“Celia went back to work but things were never the same.  She never really regained her confidence, she was a good mother to Em but she questioned herself all the time.  Her marriage broke up: it was just too much for her husband to cope with.  But she carried on: it was heroic really.  Then, when Em was in his mid-twenties, she went through a good time and I thought it was all over.  Em came into the business and I decided to take six months off and travel.”  George grimaced, “I guess it was my midlife crisis.  I wanted to cut loose and go free.”

“Quite understandable,” murmured Ducky.

“But I shouldn’t have gone,” said George.  “When I came back I found that Celia had withdrawn completely.  I don’t know if it was because I had abandoned her or the responsibility of running the company was too much … whatever, it just seemed to break her.”

“Was there a diagnosis?” asked Ducky.

“Agoraphobia … anthropophobia and other phobias,” said George.

“A fear of going out and a fear of people,” said Ducky.  “A toxic combination.”

“We were living in Seattle but the noise and bustle were torture for her.  And so I decided that we should come home to Cedaron.  I gave up the business and let Emerson take over.  And we came here to live quietly and hope that she would get better.  I set up a trust which finances a charity which researches phobias: I’ve seen the devastation they cause and I wanted to try and help other victims.”

“That’s why McGee couldn’t find where the money had gone,” said Tony.

“And has your sister had treatment for her condition?” asked Ducky.

“We tried.  But a fear of people makes medical support difficult,” said George ruefully.

“Indeed,” acknowledged Ducky.

“But we’ve tried.  But nothing seemed to work and we were stuck in the same old cycle although in some ways we have been very content here,” said George.

“But has something changed?” asked Ducky, “For you to agree to talk to me about this?”

“Tony,” said George.

“I don’t understand,” said Ducky.

“When Tony walked through the door, or rather staggered through the door, for some reason Celia didn’t bolt into her panic room.  She looked after him,” said George.

“I see.  And that does seem to be a breakthrough,” said Ducky.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Ducky,” said Tony, “But I spoke to Celia about possibly talking to you.  And she didn’t say no.”

“I am not a psychiatrist,” said Ducky, “But I do have some knowledge and experience.  And I know many people who are skilled in these matters.”

“Then you’ll help?” asked George.

“I would be honoured,” said Ducky.

“Thank you,” came a female voice from a door at the back.

“Cilly!” said George.

Ducky stood, “Won’t you join us, Celia?” he said gently.

Celia nodded but didn’t move forward.  Tony walked over and offered her his hand.  After a moment’s hesitation, she took it and walked forward with him.

“Celia Woodcote,” said Tony, “This is Dr Donald Mallard.  Ducky, this is Celia.”

“Won’t you sit down?” said Ducky, “And we’ll have a chat.”

There was a look of near panic in Celia’s eyes but she kept a firm grip on Tony’s hand and resolutely took a seat.

“Tony says you know everything,” she said with an attempt at humour.

“I sometimes give that impression,” said Ducky with a smile, “But, alas, it is far from the truth.”

“An honest man,” said Celia.

“I want to thank you,” said Ducky.

“What for?” asked Celia.

“For your care of Anthony,” said Ducky, “He was fortunate to fall into your company and to receive your solicitude.  I think he might have been in a worse state if he had come into a less welcoming place.”

“I think the thanks might be mine,” said Celia.

“How so?” asked Ducky.

“Tony was so broken when he came in but so brave with it,” said Celia.  “At first I think I was drawn to him because he was even more vulnerable than me.  It’s been a long time since someone needed me, since I could help someone …”  Tony squeezed her hand.  “But then, as I got to know him, I realised that he was determined to face whatever life had thrown him.  He wasn’t going to be beaten … and I saw him beginning to recover … and that gave me hope and courage.  A little bit of hope and a little bit of courage but it’s a beginning.”

“And that is all that is needed,” said Ducky warmly.

“When those men broke in and held you all at gunpoint, I was so angry with myself for not being able to help you.  I shut myself into my panic room and even when I knew they’d gone, I couldn’t bring myself to come out and open the door to the storeroom,” said Celia unhappily.

“You called the police,” said Tony.

“But there was a delay,” said Celia, “If I’d opened the door myself then Agent Gibbs could have gone after you faster and …”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Tony, “I’m OK.  It all worked out.  And if you’d been out here then you would have been shut up as well and who knows how long it would have been before the police arrived?”

“Anthony is right,” said Ducky, “In my experience the _what ifs_ of life do not bear examination.”

“You are probably right, Doctor,” said Celia.  “And it made me realise, for the first time in years, that I _want_ to get better. “

“And I will do everything in my power to help you in that journey,” said Ducky.

NCISNCIS

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Tony later that day as Ducky prepared to leave.

“It was my pleasure, Anthony.  I shall enjoy researching the condition and finding a suitable physician for Mrs Woodcote.”

“I’d like to think that something good could come out of all this,” said Tony.

“A silver lining?”

“Guess so.  They’re good people, Ducky,” said Tony.

“As are you, Anthony,” said Ducky.

“You know, there are so many different types of bravery.  George gave up everything for Celia.  He’s a born businessman … well, you can see that from everything that’s going on here.  He can’t help but have good ideas and put them into practice.  Who knows how much money he could have made if he hadn’t decided to give it all up and come here?  Other people would have just put her into a hospital or institution but he didn’t.”

“Indeed,” said Ducky, “Love is a powerful motivation.  And I don’t believe that Mr Clarke will see his life as a sacrifice.”

“Guess not,” said Tony, “I suppose I’m not used to seeing that kind of sacrifice.  Not exactly a DiNozzo trait.”

“You gave up the chance of promotion in Rota because you didn’t think Jethro was ready to lead the team without your support,” said Ducky, “That smacks of sacrifice to me, Anthony.  And I would venture to suggest that some of your _masks_ are a way of downplaying your own abilities to foster the confidence of others.  There’s an element of sacrifice there too.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Ducky,” said Tony, “Guess the old memory hasn’t come back completely.”

“Have it your own way, Anthony,” said Ducky, “For the moment.  But be sure that I have always had the highest regard for your abilities.”

“Thanks, Ducky.  Good to know someone has.”

Ducky sighed but decided not to respond directly.  “You know, Anthony, it is highly likely that Jethro will know that I travelled to Cedaron.  And that I have seen you.  I think you can expect a visit from him.”

“We’ll see,” said Tony.

And so Tony waited.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Tim McGee took a sip of the coffee he had just bought from the coffee wagon in the grounds of the Navy Yard.  He sighed with appreciation both at its perfection and at the chance to escape from the pressure cooker which was the squad room.  His smile grew broader as he recognised a familiar figure sitting a few yards away.

“Tony!” he called.

“Oh, hey, McGee,” responded Tony.

“Looking good, Tony,” said Tim as he walked across.  “Well, not good but better than the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks, Tim,” said Tony, “I bet that silver tongue of yours goes down a storm with the ladies.”

“Oh,” said Tim, “I just meant …”

“It’s OK,” said Tony, “I know what you mean.  And you’re right, I can just about bear to look at myself in the mirror again.”

Tim nodded.  Tony no longer looked like a _walking bruise_ but he was unlikely to picked for the front cover of GQ.

“How’s the case going?” asked Tony.

“You still don’t remember?” asked Tim, “Nothing’s come back?”

“No,” said Tony, “It’s a blank.”

“Penrose and O’Driscoll crumbled as soon as Gibbs started talking to them,” said Tim proudly, “They were falling over themselves to grass on the other one.  They were running a huge operation.  We’re working with FBI and DEA to shut it all down completely.”

“NCIS still involved though?” asked Tony.

“Gibbs wouldn’t let it go,” said Tim, “Although this interagency co-operation thing might wear him down.  You know Gibbs, he doesn’t always play well with others.  Sorry, you don’t know that, but if you remembered Gibbs you’d remember that about him.”

Tony nodded, not revealing that he remembered all too well.  “What about Gabriella Sciofa?” asked Tony.

Tim nodded excitedly.  “FBI got a search warrant for all her properties.  They found her in a chest freezer at one in Los Angeles.”

“I’m guessing she was dead and not practising hibernation?” said Tony.

“Yep, she was dead.  Penrose and O’Driscoll are off the hook for murder; it looks as if she died of a heart attack but the post mortem will confirm.  Failing to report a death and failing to arrange for disposal of a body could be added to the list of charges against them though.”

“Why are NCIS still involved?” asked Tony.

“Are you kidding?  Gibbs.  And anyway, we were involved because of the Navy connection.  It was our case first.”

“I guess.”

“The Director’s delighted.  Haven’t seen him this happy since … well, I don’t know.  And SecNav’s happy too.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you got a commendation, Tony.”

“Even though I don’t remember what I did?” asked Tony sceptically.

“Not sure it’s a requirement to get a commendation,” said Tim.  “Everyone’s saying you did a great job.”

“Did Penrose and O’Driscoll say what happened?” asked Tony.

“They realised the flash drive was missing although you’d left a substitute in its place.  You were the only one who could have taken it.  They didn’t trust anyone else to get it back from you … everyone was in the dark about them being the real masterminds behind the operation.  And they’ve got the experience and the muscle to do some _enforcement_ of their own so they went after you.  They took us to the place where they caught up with you and … held you for a while.  It wasn’t pretty.  But you wouldn’t tell them where you’d stashed the information and you managed to break free and make a run for it.  And well, you know the rest.”

“Hmmm,” murmured Tony.

Tim looked at his co-worker and saw that he was gazing unseeingly across the grass.

“Tony?” he prompted.

“Yeah?” said Tony, refocusing his eyes and giving Tim one of his bright smiles.

“What you doing here?”

“Got lonely in good ol’ Cedaron,” said Tony.

“You missed us?”

“What?  Oh, sure.  And Mara came back.”

“Who’s Mara?” asked Tim.

“Doodle’s owner.  So Doodle, or should I say Oscar, had to go home,” said Tony.

“Oh,” said Tim.

“Not sure she was too pleased that Doods seemed to have forgotten his name,” said Tony thoughtfully.

“I see,” said Tim, not sure that he did.

“But hey, he’s adaptable.  Fits in anywhere, he’ll be OK,” said Tony as he gave Tim another blinding smile.

“You coming in?” asked Tim.

“Coming in where?”

“To work.  To see everyone.  They’ve missed you.”

“I don’t think so,” said Tony.

“Then why’d you come here?” asked Tim.

“I was going to come in,” said Tony.  “But my knee’s still playing up.  It hurt more than I expected so I think I’ll give it a miss for today.”  He looked across at the building.  “Not sure my leg would make it up any stairs.”

“We have an elevator,” said Tim, “Not that you want to know what goes on in it,” he added morosely.  “Hey, come on, Tony.  We can take it slow.”

“Well …” said Tony as he seemed to weaken.

At that moment Tim’s cell rang and he answered it, “Boss?  Yes, I’m on my way back.  Yes, I know … Ok … I’ll meet you there … I …” he put his phone back in his pocket as Gibbs terminated the call.  “Gotta go,” he said.  “We got a call out.”

Tony waved his hand.  “Go on, Tim.  Duty calls.”

Tim hesitated, torn between the instinct to obey Gibbs and a feeling that something was going on with Tony that needed addressing.

“OK,” he said finally, “But come in tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Sure,” said Tony easily.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you, Tony?”

“What else could I do?” asked Tony.

“You all right, Tony?” asked Tim.

“I’m fine, McWorrywart,” said Tony.

Tim smiled at the mcnickname.  “I knew I should never have told you about the nicknames,” he said.

Tony grinned at him.

“Shall I tell Gibbs I saw you?” asked Tim.

“If you want to,” said Tony.

“I-I …”

“You know, Tim, I have a feeling that Gibbs probably has a rule about how many seconds he allows before you obey a summons,” said Tony, “And you may be about to break it.”

Tim gulped, “Never heard of one but it’s probably one of the unwritten ones.  I’d better go.”

Tony nodded peaceably.

On a sudden instinct, Tim thrust out a hand to be shaken, “Good to see you again, DiNozzo.”

Tony grasped the hand, “You too, McGoo.”

Tim groaned and hurried away muttering something about rhyming nicknames.  As he went he turned back one more time and saw Tony still sitting apparently lost in thought.

NCISNCIS

Tony was standing uncertainly in his kitchen when there came an authoritative knock at his door.  Tony sighed and braced himself as he recognised why he had been restless since his encounter with Tim: this was what he had been expecting.

“Agent Gibbs,” he said as he opened the door.

“DiNozzo,” said Gibbs.  “When’d you get back to DC?”

“Yesterday.  Late,” said Tony.

“Huh.  McGee said he’d seen you at the Navy Yard,” said Gibbs.

“Hear you caught a case,” said Tony, “What happened?”

“False alarm,” said Gibbs.  “You could’ve waited.  We were back inside an hour.”

“Coffee?” asked Tony, “Or something stronger?”

“What you having?” asked Gibbs.

“Still on painkillers,” said Tony, “So no alcohol for me.”

“Coffee’s good for me,” said Gibbs.  “You worked out how to use that fancy coffee machine of yours?”

“Sure,” said Tony.

“How you doing, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs.

“Better.  Getting there,” said Tony.  He tried to change the subject, “Guess it’s just as well your call out this afternoon was a bust.  McGee said you’re still working on the drugs case.”

“Yeah.  We’ll pass it on soon though.  Once the Navy angle is tied up.  The Director’s pleased.”

“So Tim said.”

Gibbs nodded.  “I brought some sandwiches.  Pastrami on rye.  From the deli near the Navy Yard.  Figured you wouldn’t have much food in your place.”

Tony relaxed into a smile for the first time since Gibbs’ arrival.  “Thanks, Gibbs.  A lot of what was in my fridge looks like a biology experiment rather than edible.”

“Don’t tell Abby,” grinned Gibbs, “She’ll want to run an analysis.”

Tony finished making the coffee and he and Gibbs sat down on the couch to eat.

“Hmm, this is good, Gibbs,” said Tony after a couple of mouthfuls.  “First thing that’s tasted like food for days.”

“I told Miguel they were for you,” said Gibbs, “He threw in a meatball sub with provolone cheese on the house.”

Tony groaned with pleasure.  “Don’t get me wrong.  I loved Cedaron but … well, let’s just say the catering wasn’t … very international!”

Gibbs and Tony continued to chew companionably.  Tony finished his meatball sub, wiped his mouth and took a deep breath,

“I owe you an apology, Gibbs.”  He saw Gibbs open his mouth to speak and hurried on, “And I’m guessing you have a rule about those.  You seem like the John Wayne type.”

“Apologies are a sign of weakness,” said Gibbs firmly.

“And weakness is always bad?” asked Tony.

Gibbs shrugged.

“Anyway _, I_ don’t have a rule against apologies.  It’s a way of moving on.  If we don’t admit we were wrong, then we don’t learn.”

“Have it your way,” said Gibbs.  His eyes narrowed slightly, “What have you got to apologise for?”

“Nonno Joe,” said Tony.

“What?” said Gibbs in surprise.

“You remember I told you about Nonno Joe and his workshop?”

“Sure.  How you liked the smell of wood shavings because of him.”

“Yeah,” winced Tony.  “Yeah, he did have a workshop.  And he did some carpentry for a while.”

“For a while?”

“Yeah.  He was kinda like my father.  He got these … enthusiasm.  Mad keen on something and then moved on to something else.  One time it was portrait painting.  Then he moved on to making baskets.  Then he started to make mosaics and then it was pottery.”

“But woodworking for a while?”

“Hmm.  Until he got splinters!  Then he gave up and looked around for something else.  Good old Nonno Joe.”

“So why’d you tell me about the woodworking?” asked Gibbs.

Tony looked embarrassed.  “George told me that when he mentioned to you that I’d come into the shop because I smelled the wood … well, he said you sort of smiled.  Then McGee told me about the woodworking and I joined the dots.”

“I don’t understand,” said Gibbs with a frown.

“I didn’t remember who you were, Gibbs.  I wasn’t sure I liked you and I didn’t feel much in control of anything.  I wanted to push you back.  I wasn’t sure if the smell of wood was good for me because of you or not but I didn’t want you to think it was.  It was petty but I was in a bad place … and I’m sorry.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“That’s it?” asked Tony.

“What you want from me?” asked Gibbs.

“I just sort of bared my soul to you,” said Tony.  “Admitted I was wrong and you just say _it doesn’t matter_.”

“That’s why I don’t like apologies,” said Gibbs, “They come with too much baggage.”

“Yes, but …”

“Hey, if it helped you that’s all that matters,” said Gibbs.  “Like you said, apologies are a way of letting you move on.  You’ve moved on.  That’s good.”

“I guess,” said Tony discontentedly.  “So why’d you smile when George told me I wandered in because I liked the smell of wood?”

“I can’t remember.  Perhaps it was gas,” said Gibbs.

“I think I was right not to know if I liked you or not,” said Tony glumly.

“Second B for bastard,” said Gibbs.

“What are you doing here?” asked Tony deciding that he didn’t know what to say to Gibbs’ comment.

“You’re on my team,” said Gibbs.  “I look out for my people.”

“You think I need looking out for?  Doesn’t seem to go with the second B.”

“I have my moments,” said Gibbs.  “So, when you coming back to work?”

“Washington State Dr Duck thinks I may need an operation on my knee,” said Tony. 

“OK,” said Gibbs.  “Let me know.”

“Is that it?” asked Tony.

“Don’t know what you want, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs calmly.  “You’ve been through hell.  For all I know you’re still going through it.  You need to take your time.  Come back when you’re ready.”

“You speaking from experience?”

“I’m not good at sitting on the side-lines … and it’s been suggested that rushing back to work hasn’t always been the best idea.  I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

“So you can make mistakes?”

“DiNozzo,” said Gibbs in exasperation, “Course I can.  I just don’t agonise over them, that’s all. Or tell the world about them.”

“But you want me back on your team?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Seemed to me when you turned up in Cedaron that you could barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes every time you looked at me,” said Tony.

“So?”

“You didn’t do that with anyone else.  Kinda made me think you found me annoying.”

“And this surprises you?”

“You _sure_ you want me back, Gibbs?”

“When you get your head screwed on properly,” said Gibbs.

“You mean when I get my memory back?”

“Didn’t say that.  Even without your memory back your instincts are good.  You can relearn _knowledge_ but what _you’ve_ got can’t be learned and I don’t reckon it can be forgotten either.”

“So I’m good at the job?” asked Tony.

“Wouldn’t be on my team if you weren’t,” said Gibbs.

“Good to know,” said Tony.

Gibbs stood up.  “I’m heading out.”

“Thanks for the food,” said Tony.

“Thank Miguel,” said Gibbs.

“I will,” said Tony.

“You need anything?” asked Gibbs.

“No, I’m good,” said Tony.

“You haven’t said much,” said Gibbs.

“What do you want me to say?” asked Tony.

“Don’t know, Tony.  What is it you _want_ to say?” said Gibbs as he looked at Tony.

Tony suddenly understood why Gibbs was so good in interrogation: simply being looked at by Gibbs made Tony want to tell him the truth.  The problem was that Tony wasn’t sure exactly what the truth was or what he wanted.

“Nothing, Gibbs,” he lied, “I’m good.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

 “DiNozzo.”

“Tony, it’s Tim here.  Tim McGee.”

“What can I do for you, Tim McGee?” asked Tony.

“Just letting you know that I think Gibbs is on his way,” said Tim.

“And how do you know that?”

“Um, I pinged his phone.”

“That’d do it,” agreed Tony.  “Where is the Great White?”

“He hopped a ride on a navy chopper.  Landed at Silverdale a few minutes ago.  Probably take him about an hour to get to you,” said Tim.

“How’d he know where I was?” asked Tony.

“It’s Gibbs,” said Tim simply.

“And he’s got a really good team,” added Tony.  “OK, thanks for letting me know.  I’d better get the coffee on.”

“Er, Tony …”

“What?”

“If you do that, he’ll know someone tipped you off,” said Tim.

“Good point.  I’ll look surprised.  Owe you one, Tim.  Thanks.”

Tony ended the call and looked thoughtfully around the cabin.  He had spent two days in DC but didn’t feel comfortable there.  With Drs Allard and Mallard in agreement that it was too soon for him to return to work he had decided to go back to Cedaron where George had suggested he resume his ‘sylvan sojourn’ in the cabin.

“Gonna have a guest, Doodle,” said Tony to his canine companion.

Mara had gone off on another of her jaunts.  Tony had learned that the residents of Cedaron called her the Vacation Queen and that she would probably have got on well with Nonno Joe as she was also prey to short-lived enthusiasms and had a restless soul.  Tony and George suspected that Doodle was one of those enthusiasms and that the dog might soon take up permanent residence in the World of Wood.  George would welcome his arrival as he was proving a useful way of getting Celia to take some walks outside; she felt safe with the dog and he distracted her from other worries.

Doodle woofed happily at the sound of Tony’s voice.  He had been glad to see Tony but, as Tony had predicted, he was an adaptable creature ready to settle wherever he was wanted.  Tony felt he understood something of Doodle’s flexible approach to home.

It was rather less than Tim’s predicted hour when Gibbs emerged from the trees in front of Tony’s cabin.

“Hey, Gibbs,” Tony called out.

Gibbs raised a questioning eyebrow and Tony pointed to Doodle as explanation for hearing him coming.

“Hey, Scribble,” said Gibbs.

“Doodle, not Scribble,” corrected Tony.

“Same difference,” shrugged Gibbs with a smile.  “Still think he looks like something a kid would draw.”

“I guess,” said Tony, “Sort of a cross between a leopard and a Labrador.”

“A leodor,” said Gibbs.

“Or a leotard,” suggested Tony.

“Ducky would have a theory,” said Gibbs.

Tony canted his head slightly as he considered the unusual sight of Gibbs making small talk.

“I’ll make coffee,” he said.  Gibbs nodded in acceptance and the two didn’t speak further until they were seated on the two rockers on the porch.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” said Gibbs.

“No,” said Tony, “I’m not.  I guess you don’t seem the sort of person who lets go very easily.”

“This is a good place,” said Gibbs, “Peaceful.  Good place to rest up and heal.”

Tony nodded in agreement.

“And have you?  Healed, I mean?” asked Gibbs.

“Getting there.  Knee’s still playing up,” said Tony avoiding some of the question of what still needed to heal.

“We need to talk,” said Gibbs.

“We do?” asked Tony.

“We do.  I meant what I said about you being able to come back to my team even if you don’t get your memory back.”

“Somehow I doubt if you ever say something you don’t mean, Gibbs,” said Tony with a half-smile.

“But you’re hesitating,” said Gibbs.

“Are you surprised?”

“Some.  You’ve got memories of being a cop – that’s a good starting point.  You managed to get away from Penrose and O’Driscoll – that shows you’ve got ability.”

“I guess,” said Tony.

“It’s more than a lot of agents start with,” said Gibbs.

“That’s true,” said Tony as he remembered the arrival of some team members.

“And I’ve got confidence in you,” said Gibbs.

“And that’s what should convince me?” asked Tony.

“It would have done once,” said Gibbs.

“How so?”

“You’ve always trusted me,” said Gibbs.  “I gave you the job on my team at a time when your confidence had taken a knock.  You talked about quitting as a cop but I told you that would be a waste … that you were too good to waste.”

“Were?” asked Tony.

“Were and are,” said Gibbs firmly.

“Is that why you’re here?  Because you don’t want something good to go to waste?”

“It’s a good principle,” said Gibbs, “That’s why it’s a rule.”

“It’s good to know, Gibbs,” said Tony.  “You seem a bit … uncomfortable saying it though.”

Gibbs grimaced.  “Talking’s not my thing.”

“Then why do it now?” asked Tony.

“I had a bad accident a few months back.  My doctor says I need more than physical healing – and that talking can help.”

“So I’m your therapist?” asked Tony.

“No!” huffed Gibbs.  “No, he said it’s a good thing to do in general.  That bottling things up is bad.”

“Wow,” said Tony.

“And you’re a talker,” said Gibbs.  “Not that you necessarily say much!”

“What?”

“You talk a lot but you don’t always reveal much of yourself when you do.  But it’s usually entertaining!”

“Doesn’t sound like something you’d approve of,” observed Tony.

“It serves a purpose,” said Gibbs.

“You want to be entertained?” said Tony sceptically.

“No.  But it oils the wheels, keeps things moving.  It’s difficult to explain,” said Gibbs.

“So you want me back,” said Tony, “For whatever weird, undefinable reason?”

“Undefinable defines it pretty well,” said Gibbs.

“I think that’s an oxymoron,” said Tony.

“Is that a new type of phone?” asked Gibbs with mock innocence.

“I’m guessing comedy’s not your bag either,” said Tony.  “Did the doctor recommend that too?”

“Like I said to you before, I don’t always get that right,” admitted Gibbs.

“And the eye rolls?”

“What eye rolls?”

“When you came to visit me in my apartment, I said that it seemed to me that you could barely look at me when you first arrived at George’s without rolling your eyes.  You didn’t answer me.  Or rather, you gave me one of your half-answers.  Was I wrong?  Or was it a side effect of dodgy painkillers?”

“No,” said Gibbs reluctantly, “I guess you weren’t wrong.  We’ve been through a phase of getting on one another’s nerves.  No, that’s not true.  _You_ got on _my_ nerves.”

“Why?” asked Tony.

“Not sure,” said Gibbs.  “After effect of the accident.  You were out of the office for a long time.  I think we got out of the habit of talking … working together.”

“But you think we could work together?” asked Tony.  “Despite that?”

“Yes.  You being out the last few weeks … made me see how much the team needs you.”

“The team?” asked Tony.

“And me,” said Gibbs.  “I told you once, I depend on you.”

“You see, Gibbs, that’s a problem to me.”

“Me depending on you is a problem?” said Gibbs in surprise.  “It was the sort of thing that lit you up once.”

“It’s not you depending on me that I have an issue with,” said Tony, “It’s that you only told me that once.”

“I don’t give out praise like …”

“Lollipops.  I know, you told me.  Gibbs, why do I still work for you?”

“You like the work,” said Gibbs.  “It suits you.”

“You see, Gibbs, I’m trying to understand why I stayed so long when it seems out of character for me.  But then I find it hard to understand how I became the person I did.”

“You expect me to explain that?” said Gibbs.

“No, I guess not.  It’s just that when Abby and Ducky arrived they bought these expensive clothes.  When I was in DC I saw that my apartment is … a lot more upmarket than anything I’d had in Baltimore.  And when I was a cop in Baltimore I never wanted to wear a suit … I joked with Danny about him dressing like my dad.  Now fifteen years later _I_ dress like my dad.  How did that happen?”

“People change, DiNozzo.  You’re not your dad,” said Gibbs.

“So long as I’m not on the take,” said Tony thoughtfully.

“Never,” said Gibbs fiercely, “I’d stake my life on that.”

Tony was taken aback by Gibbs’ vehemence.  “Thanks, Gibbs.  That means a lot.”

Tony and Gibbs lapsed into silence with Doodle slumped in a bored fashion between them.  After a few minutes, Gibbs uncharacteristically broke the silence,

“So, when are you coming back?” he asked.

“What?” said Tony.

“I told you.  The team needs you.  I need you.  You’re good at the job.  We can make allowances for the memory thing.”

“Make allowances?” said Tony faintly, “Have those words ever come out of your mouth before, Gibbs?”

Gibbs had the grace to grin.  “May be not.  But perhaps they should have.”

“I have the feeling I should be honoured,” said Tony.

“Perhaps you should,” said Gibbs solemnly.

“And it’s kinda touching that you want me back, Gibbs,” said Tony.  “And I appreciate you coming all the way up here …”

“No problem.  My team, my concern.  Always got your six, DiNozzo just like you’ve always had mine.”

“And …”

“You ready for desk duty?  Till the knee gets sorted out,” asked Gibbs.

“I guess so,” said Tony.

“Then that’s sorted,” said Gibbs briskly.

“It is?”

“Sure.  We’ve covered everything.  If the Director has any issues, I’ll deal with them,” said Gibbs.

“I’m not sure about coming back, Gibbs,” said Tony in a desperate attempt to stop the Gibbs juggernaut.

“Why not?  You’ll be able to do the job, no problem.”

“I keep remembering how you looked at me when you first arrived, Gibbs.  I admit you were concerned, maybe even relieved to see I hadn’t died on your watch …”

“It wasn’t my watch, DiNozzo,” interrupted Gibbs, “It wouldn’t have happened if I’d been running the op.”

“So, I get that you’d worried about me but I can’t get rid of the idea that you didn’t seem to like me very much.”

“You want me to _like_ you?  It’s not one of your college fraternities, you know.”

“OK, perhaps _like_ was the wrong word.  Not sure what I mean, - respect, value … who knows?  But I didn’t see that, Gibbs.  I think you tried.  When we were on our own you tried to think of the positive things I’d done.  Even managed some praise.  Was that because we were on our own?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, be nice to me when nobody else was around.  You said you don’t give me praise very often … did you ever give it when other people were around?”

“Sometimes,” said Gibbs.

“Gibbs, you’ve admitted that we were having difficulties.  Ducky and McGee hinted at the same thing.  I-I’m not sure that coming back to your team is a good idea.  Not at the moment. “

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Gibbs.

“What I said.  I’m not sure coming back to your team is a good idea.  I’m not sure it would work.”

“You don’t have to be _sure it would work_ , that’s my job.  My team, my responsibility.  Let me make it simple for you, DiNozzo.  You’re on my team until I say you’re not.”

“I don’t think you’ve got the hang of this _conversation_ idea, Gibbs,” said Tony, “It’s meant to be two-way and you have to open to the possibility of changing your mind during a conversation.”

“You think you’ve said something to change my mind, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs.

“I guess not.  It must be strange being you, Gibbs.  So much confidence.  So much certainty that you’re right.  I can’t decide if it would be restful or terrifying.”

“Whatever,” said Gibbs.  “Report back to DC when the doctors say you’re medically fit for desk duty.  We’ll work on your _concerns_ then.”

“I’ll speak to Director Vance about them,” said Tony.

“You serious about this?” asked Gibbs.

“Deadly,” said Tony.

“Oh hell,” said Gibbs as he finally lost patience, “Do what you want!”  He slammed his coffee mug down and stalked off.

“That went well,” said Tony conversationally to Doodle.

NCISNCIS

“Agent Gibbs,” said George when he saw Gibbs coming back into the store, “You leaving already?”

“Seems there’s nothing to stay for,” said Gibbs.  He sighed as he replayed the recent conversation with Tony in his head.  The walk back through the tranquil forest had calmed him down a little and he was wondering if he could have handled things better.

“Want to talk about it?” offered George with a gesture towards the café.

“Everyone wants to talk,” said Gibbs bitterly.  “Doctors swear by it.”

“It helps some people,” said George.

“It didn’t work with DiNozzo,” said Gibbs.  “I tried the talking thing … but I guess _reasoning_ isn’t something I’m good at.”

“It didn’t go well?” asked George.

“Well, DiNozzo is still in one piece.  Not everyone I disagree with can say that,” said Gibbs.

“Glad to hear it,” said George.  “I’ve taken a liking to your young man.”

“Not so sure he’s my young man,” said Gibbs ruefully.  “Not anymore.”

“Was he?  I mean, was there a time he was?”

Gibbs grinned reminiscently, “Oh yeah.  He was.  Good times, Clarke.  Good times.”

“I’m sure he appreciated you coming here,” said George, “It’s a long way from DC.”

“Well, riding those military flights brings back good memories,” shrugged Gibbs.

“You know, Agent Gibbs, the world won’t stop spinning if you admit to doing a good deed.  Doing something to look out for someone you care about,” said George.

“Didn’t work this time,” said Gibbs.

“Doesn’t mean it was wasted,” said George, “Nothing good is ever wasted.”

Gibbs gave a half smile, “I’ve got a rule something like that.”

“Well, we must be right then.”

There was something sympathetic about George and Gibbs found himself sharing something he held close to his heart.  Dr Taft would have been proud, “You know, I had a daughter once.  Shannon, my wife, she used to say that she could never imagine how I would ever be able to let her go.  Every boy in the neighbourhood would have been too terrified to even think of dating her.”

George laughed, “I think you’d have managed.  In the end.”

“I guess,” said Gibbs.  “And I guess that’s what I’ve got to do now.  Let DiNozzo walk away if he wants to.  Perhaps it’s time to let him go.”

“Sometimes holding on too tightly doesn’t work,” said George.  “If we hold too tight the people we love will want to wriggle free.  Hold on looser and they may wriggle free but they’ll know they can come back.  That might be all we can hope for.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” said Gibbs as he stood up.  “Look after him.  For me.”

“Will do,” said George.

NCISNCIS

“He gone?” asked Tony later that day when he dropped into the café.

“Yep,” said George.

Tony looked around theatrically, “Can’t see any damage.  Guess Hurricane Gibbs made landfall gently.”

“He was kinda … sad,” said George.  “We talked a bit.”

“You _talked_?” asked Tony incredulously.

“I take it you didn’t tell him your memory came back?” asked George ignoring Tony’s question.

Tony grimaced, “I thought about it.  Still don’t know if I was right not to tell him but this seemed …”

“What?” asked George as Tony hesitated.

“Kinder?” said Tony.  “I tried to hint at what had gone wrong but he seemed to think it was a passing phase.  It was almost touching that he wants me back.  I’m just not sure I believe him.”

“I would have thought honesty was one of Gibbs’ traits,” observed George.

“Oh, I didn’t mean he was _lying_.  I think he believed it.  I’m just not sure he’s right.  And I’m not sure I want to go back and risk it being like it was before.  This way he thinks I’m unsure because of the memory loss.  He probably thinks if I _remembered_ I’d be beating down his door to be let back in.  This way I’ve got an alibi for not going back – easier for everyone that way.”

“And is it easier for you?” asked George gently.

Tony gave one of his brilliant smiles.  “Who knows.  Maybe I’m taking another one for the team.  Hell, I’ve done that before.  Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo knows what that’s like.”

“I can see why he wants you back,” said George.

“That’s because you’re a nice person, George.  I’m not so sure that’s why Leroy Jethro Gibbs wants me back.  But hey, don’t worry about me.  I’ll be all right.  I’m always all right.  I’ll speak to the Director about my options … and this way, I haven’t burned my boats.”

“You sure?” asked George.

“You know,” said Tony in a surprised tone, “I think I am.  I haven’t felt this good for months.  Perhaps things are finally looking up for Anthony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t marked this as complete because there will be another chapter with an alternative ending. If you like the idea that Gibbs has gone off without knowing that Tony got his memory back, then you won’t need to read the alternative version.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternative ending as promised …

Gibbs was working on one of the pieces of wood he had brought back from Cedaron when he heard footsteps up above.  He paused for a moment or two: it was likely that he knew the visitor as the person had seemingly walked straight in.  It was odd, however, that the new arrival hadn’t come down the steps so perhaps he had been invaded by a foolhardy burglar.  This didn’t happen very often and, on occasion, Gibbs found it almost exhilarating to deal with but that night Gibbs was rather weary and was more likely simply to shoot any would be thief.

Gibbs’ gut, however, was silent on the issue of burglars and he decided he probably just had a shy visitor or one who had lost his or her nerve.  Gibbs sighed and picked up a chisel to resume work.  His visitor would make an appearance when loins had been appropriately girded up.  It was a shock, therefore, when the basement rang with a bellowed _Gibbs_ from above.  Gibbs muttered a curse, grateful there had been nobody to witness his start of surprise.

“Down here!” he shouted up.

“I can’t get down there,” came a reply from the top of the steps.

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“My knee,” said Tony.  “Doesn’t do stairs.”

“Hmph,” said Gibbs.  He felt like pointing out that he’d managed to negotiate the stairs with a replacement knee.   By the time he got to the top of the stairs, he had changed his mind, “You know, I got up and down these steps with a _replacement_ knee.”  He paused for dramatic effect.

“So?” asked Tony unimpressed, “It was a new knee.  It should work better.  And besides, you had an incentive to go up and down those steps.  I don’t.”

“You didn’t have to come here,” Gibbs pointed out.  “Your choice.”

“You came to see me,” said Tony, “Seemed polite to return the favour.  And we sort of left things unfinished.”  He felt they had got off to a bad start so pointed to the pack of beers he had brought with him.

“Thought you were on painkillers,” said Gibbs.

“One beer won’t hurt.  And I took a cab.”

“OK, shoot,” said Gibbs as they each took a beer and sat down.

Tony picked at the label on his bottle as he tried to decide where to start.

“You came here, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs after a few moments of silence.  “I’m guessing it wasn’t because you were testing out DC cabs or because you wanted a place to sit while you peeled the label off your beer.”

“No, it wasn’t,” agreed Tony.

“Although I guess catching a cab was a good idea seeing as you won’t remember DC streets,” said Gibbs.

Tony looked up from the neck of his bottle and saw Gibbs’ sharp gaze focussed on him.  He flushed, “That isn’t the reason I caught a cab,” he said.

“When did you get your memory back, Tony?” asked Gibbs with surprising gentleness.

“How’d you know?” asked Tony.

“You knew which beer I like …”

“Might have been beer _I_ like,” objected Tony.

“That brand’s only been around for five years,” said Gibbs, “You wouldn’t have known about it.”

“Oh,” said Tony.

“But it wasn’t just that.  Most people – you included – are surprised when they see my place for the first time.  But tonight, you didn’t look surprised: you looked comfortable, as if you’d seen it all before.”

“I was going to tell you,” said Tony, “That’s one of the reasons I came tonight.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Gibbs, “When did you get your memory back?”

“I didn’t get everything back,” said Tony, “I still don’t remember the op.  You won’t be able to put me on the stand about that.”

“That won’t matter.  So, when?”

“Cedaron,” admitted Tony.

“You were lying to us all the time?” demanded Gibbs with less gentleness.

“No!  No, of course not.  It was the last day.”

“Explain.”

“The night I spent in hospital after being snatched, the memories began to come back.  Do you remember how you ran up to me when I jumped out of the window?”

“Sure.  I had to check you hadn’t broken your stupid neck,” said Gibbs with a smile which Tony hoped indicated a joke.

“Well, you put your hand on the back of my head,” said Tony.

“I thought you might have hit it,” said Gibbs.

“And I was puzzled.  Asked why you were ruffling my hair,” said Tony.

“I remember,” said Gibbs.

“I think it was that which triggered the memories.  Not right then but later that night when I couldn’t sleep I got to wondering why it had felt so weird.  And then I remembered, that usually you’d be hitting my head there not patting it.  And once I remembered that, then other things came back as well.”

Gibbs chuckled, “So Ducky was wrong when he told me I couldn’t head slap your memory back!”

Tony smiled dutifully but decided not to mention that he and Ducky had already laughed about this: somehow Tony thought it would be better if Gibbs remained in the dark about Ducky’s eureka moment.

“Why didn’t you tell us right away?” asked Gibbs.

“It was kinda overwhelming, Gibbs,” said Tony.  “I was hurting from what the two goons had done to me; you were telling me all the details about the flash drive in my shoe and then you were all heading back to DC … I needed time to process it all.”

“And when you had _processed it all_?” asked Gibbs.  “Why didn’t you tell us … me then?”

“’Cos it took a while,” said Tony, “And I’m not sure it’s done now.  There’s a lot to come to terms with.”

“What you got to _come to terms with_?” asked Gibbs, “You forgot.  You remembered.  What more is there to say?”

“Is that it how it was for you, Gibbs?  Just as simple?”

Gibbs shrugged, “Doesn’t matter how it was for me.  We’re talking about you.”

“And that’s all it is?  No feeling of sympathy for what I went through?”

“What you want from me, DiNozzo?  You know I don’t do the touchy feely stuff.”

“Not with me anyway,” said Tony.  “And please, don’t throw that stuff in my face about me not wanting you to be nice – you know that was different.”

“I don’t know what you want, DiNozzo.  I’m still trying to understand why you tried to hide this from your team and from me.  Didn’t we deserve better than that from you?”

“I guess,” admitted Tony.

“Whatever else you think, I let everyone know as soon as my memories were back,” said Gibbs.

“It was a different situation,” protested Tony, “You realised you had the clue to a potentially deadly threat to national security.  Of course you weren’t going to keep that secret!  Do you think _I_ would have?  Geez, good to know you have such a high opinion of me.”

“OK,” said Gibbs raising his hands in a placatory gesture.  He knew the comparison was unfair and, being honest, he wasn’t sure how quickly he would have shared the knowledge of his memory’s return if the terrorist threat had been less pressing.  And then he recalled that he had retreated to Mexico for months to cope with the aftermath of remembering so perhaps it was hypocritical for him to be giving DiNozzo a hard time.  “Why don’t you tell me why you found it so hard?”

Tony looked at Gibbs suspiciously but decided that he seemed to have calmed down.

“It was freaky,” began Tony.  “I’d had nearly a month trying to work out who I was and where I came from.  Apart from anything else I was puzzled I seemed to have put on about twenty pounds so quick”

Gibbs grinned as he remembered Tony’s angst about a metabolism which had slowed down over the years.

“Anyway, I figured I was still a cop but then you all showed up and I found that I was a fed and had been for years.  That was weird on so many levels: I’d never expected to be a fed and I’d never been able to stay that long in one place.  I knew something had changed for me … and then when I saw my clothes which were really, really unlike anything I’d had before or anything I’d even wanted before.”

“Puzzling,” agreed Gibbs, “But not exactly traumatic.”

“There speaks the man who until recently bought everything from Sears,” grumbled Tony.  “Maybe if you’d still been dressed in the sports jackets and polo shirts it wouldn’t have been so traumatic.”

“How so?”

“Polo shirts and sports jackets were sort of my ideal when I was at Baltimore,” explained Tony.  “If you’d shown up wearing them like you always did I’d have understood why I’d worked for you so long.”

“Why is everyone so hung up on me getting some new clothes?” complained Gibbs.

“It rocked our world, Gibbs,” said Tony simply, “If you’d bought a suit then who knew what else could change?  The moon and the sun might swap places, East become West, North become South, snow in summer …”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Gibbs, “I get the picture.  But me having new clothes wasn’t what was causing you all this trauma.”

“I don’t know, Gibbs,” said Tony seriously, “It might have done some underlying psychological damage which meant that I succumbed more easily to the effects of …”

“DiNozzo!” snapped Gibbs.  “Don’t make me give you another head slap.”

“Sorry.  But it’s an interesting thought … but obviously not interesting enough,” Tony added hastily.  “So, I was in this state of bewilderment.  And, if I may remind you, feeling pretty rough from the effects of the medication.  And you all kept dropping these information bombs on me.”

“Information bombs?”

“You know: oh Tony, you had pneumonic plague; Tony, we thought you died when your car blew up; DiNozzo, you went undercover as a film professor … well, you get the idea.  Thank God you didn’t tell me that I’d been thrown out of an aircraft!”

“Or that you saved me from drowning,” said Gibbs softly.

Tony stared at Gibbs, “That one I _wouldn’t_ have believed,” he said.  “After seeing how you looked at me those first few days, I’d have thought I’d have left you to drown.”

“But you didn’t,” said Gibbs in the same soft tone.

“No, I didn’t,” agreed Tony.  “Perhaps you _should_ have mentioned that one.  Not that you ever do.”

“It’s not what we do,” said Gibbs.

“It’s not what _you_ do,” corrected Tony, “When McGee saved me from plummeting to a certain death off that carpark you can bet your life I was suitably grateful.”

“We gonna do this now?” asked Gibbs.

“Doesn’t look like it,” said Tony.  “So, at the beginning I couldn’t understand how I could have stuck with this grumpy old bastard who seemed pretty pissed off with me.  And I didn’t understand the pissed off part because nobody seemed to think it was my fault that I’d been beaten within an inch of my life.”

“Go on,” said Gibbs.

“But then you stuck with me.  Which I didn’t understand because I’d have thought you have put McGee or Bishop on to such a low level assignment.”

“Had to have your six.”

“Yeah.  But as the days went by I warmed up to you.  You seemed more mellow, kinder … more understanding.  And there were things we agreed about, we rubbed along OK.  Didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did,” said Gibbs.

“So I began to see why I might have stuck around,” said Tony.  “Decided it must have been because you’d been worried that you were mad with me.  You know, a bit like an anxious parent whose kid wanders off and who can’t decide whether to smack them or hug them when they turn up.  Not that I’ve got any experience of that … Senior never noticed if I wasn’t there and I guess he’d have gone for the slap and not the hug if he had the choice.”

“He might surprise you,” suggested Gibbs.

“Yeah,” said Tony sceptically.  “And I began to think that the reason the smell of wood made me feel safe was because of you, Gibbs.  And I regretted lying to you about that.  Although I did love Nonno Joe … but I associate gummy bears with him, not wood.”

“Easier to eat,” commented Gibbs.

“And I got the feeling that you’d relaxed some while we were in the cabin.  Was I right?”

“You’re not wrong,” said Gibbs.

“And then my memories came crashing back.  And it was like I had two sets of memories.  The getting to know you again ones and the old ones.”

“And that was the problem?” asked Gibbs.

“I’d begun to think I could come to work with you, that it would be OK.  Not just that I _could_ work with you but that I _wanted_ to work with you.  And when all the memories came back I remembered that’s was what it was like in the beginning … like it was for a long time.”

“I sense a but,” said Gibbs.

“Come on, Gibbs, you know it was different.  I’ve been good at the job for a long time now …”

“You were always good at the job, DiNozzo,” interrupted Gibbs.  “Wouldn’t have kept you on the team otherwise.”

“So, I’ve been good at the job for a long time but you seem always to be impatient with me.  And I haven’t been able to figure that out.”

“I still sense the but,” said Gibbs.

“When I remembered things more, it seemed that you almost preferred having me with my memories gone.  And that puzzled me but then I thought of what you look like when you’re doing your wood working.”

“What about it?” asked Gibbs.

“I guess I’d forgotten because it’s been a while since I felt welcome in your basement.”

“That why you didn’t want to come down tonight?” asked Gibbs.  “I wasn’t joking when I said if I managed it with my knee you could have managed with yours.”

“Hey, my knee still hurts,” said Tony.  “But no, I didn’t want to come down.  I thought long and hard before showing up tonight but bearding you in your downstairs den was a step too far.  You’re a powerful kind of guy, Gibbs and let’s just say that your _essence_ , your _charisma_ is too undiluted down in the basement.  You’re too overwhelming down there.  It felt safer up here.”

“Yeah, and you’re such a wuss,” said Gibbs sarcastically.

“In some things,” said Tony.  “But we’re off the point.  When we were in the cabin I saw how focussed you were on the piece of wood that George picked out for you.  How much you enjoyed thinking what to do with it and then shaping it and making it into what you wanted.  It’s impressive to watch, you know.”

“Go on,” said Gibbs.

“And it seems to me that you like a project.  You like the making, the crafting, the fashioning.”

Gibbs shrugged, “It’s what most wood workers want to do.”

“What do you do with your boats, Gibbs?” asked Tony.

“What?  You want to know how I get them out of the basement?” asked Gibbs in surprise at the apparent change of subject.

“No.  Well, that’s not true, I’d love to know how you get them out.  Apart from anything else I’d scoop the office pool if I knew.  But, no, that’s not my point.  I figure that a lot of them don’t make it out of the basement.”

“OK,” said Gibbs cautiously.

“Because sometimes you burn them or break them up.  Not because they’re no good but because they’re finished.”

“So?”

“You like the project … the … well, I’ve said what.  You enjoy the work when there’s still something to do but you get bored when the work is done and you don’t know what to do with the finished result.”

“Is there a point to this, DiNozzo?”

“I think you’re the same with people.  You had me as a project for a couple years …”

“You were a tough one,” said Gibbs.

“Thanks.  And then Kate showed up and you had a new project.  Hell, the whole team seemed like a project especially when Probie got added to the mix.  Us all learning to work together … I think that kept you happy.  And we were happy – usually; unless you went off on Captain Ahab mode.”

“And?”

“Then Kate died.  You probably saw that as a project too, helping us through that.  And you would never have thought of adding Paula Cassidy to the team because she wasn’t the sort to put up with being moulded.”

“Lignum Vitae,” said Gibbs.

“Excuse me?”

“One of the toughest woods to work,” explained Gibbs.

“So,” continued Tony, “Paula wasn’t your type of agent.  You want someone you can craft into something you approve of.  And then Ziva arrived and you had a whole new person to work on.  And it worked because you were working on the team as a whole.  And Bishop, well, I reckon she’s your favourite project to date because she’s so darned willing to be shaped.  Cries out for it.”

“I like training people, so what?” asked Gibbs.

“I get the feeling that you didn’t know what else to do with me, Gibbs.  You’d taught me as much as you could but you didn’t know what to do next.  It was a bit like you’d made yourself a dresser and realised you didn’t have anything to put in it.  But you’ve made it and you don’t want to get rid of it so it just stands in the corner, getting in the way and getting on your nerves.”

“And you’re an unwanted piece of furniture?” asked Gibbs.

“Pretty much,” said Tony.

_“_ Interesting,” said Gibbs.

_“_ What’s the matter with you?” asked Tony in sudden suspicion.

_“_ Eh?” asked Gibbs.

“All this talking!  You haven’t bought a new personality to go with your new suits, have you?”

“Taft,” said Gibbs.

“What?”

“The doc says it’s good for my stress levels to talk,” said Tony.

“Really?”

“Although I’m not sure he’d approve of me talking to you,” said Gibbs thoughtfully.

“What you mean?” asked Tony.

“You’re not exactly a stress free subject, DiNozzo.”

“This one of those jokes that doesn’t quite work?” asked Tony.

Gibbs decided not to answer but went back to a previous question.  “The doc thinks talking is a good thing.  And this is worth talking about.”

“OK,” said Tony a little suspiciously.  “So, talking’s OK now.”

“Within limits,” said Gibbs.

“Understood,” said Tony, “I won’t share the trauma of losing my first teddy bear and I won’t ask who your best friend was at school.”

“Damn straight,” said Gibbs.

“You know,” said Tony, “I thought I’d had some bad times.  Busting my knee, getting plague, my Mom dying … well, you know.  But this last thing was the worst; I guess it was all the uncertainty.  And I don’t think I’ve come out of it the same person.  And yes, I know, that’s probably a good thing …”

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” said Gibbs.

“Anyway, I’ve changed and I don’t think it’s over yet.”

“This your way of saying you’re leaving the team?” asked Gibbs.

“No, it’s my way of saying that perhaps I understand a bit more what you went through when you were shot in Iraq.  Being powerless, the long recovery, the uncertainty … well, I guess I know a little of what that feels like,” said Tony.

“You weren’t here for most of that,” said Gibbs.

“Is that the problem?” asked Tony.  “’Cos it wasn’t my fault, Gibbs.  Vance ordered me away.  And I tried to argue with him but he refused.  I didn’t go because I wanted to.”

“And you did well, Tony.  I was proud of you,” said Gibbs.

“Thanks, Gibbs.”

“But …”

“But what?”

Gibbs grimaced at the confessional nature of the conversation but managed to admit, “I guess I was jealous too.”

“Jealous?  Of me?” Tony almost squeaked in astonishment.

“I wanted to be out there.  It was my job.  It’s what I’ve always done,” said Gibbs.

“It couldn’t wait for you to get better,” argued Tony.

“I know.  And I know it wasn’t _rational_.  I know it’s the job that matters and personal feelings don’t count.”

“Is that why you didn’t care about throwing me at Jeanne so much?” asked Tony.

“Job had to be done,” said Gibbs.

“I know.  And I’ll do what you tell me but a little support wouldn’t have gone amiss,” said Tony.

“Perhaps.  Perhaps I was still angry with you.  Or angry with Jenny.”

“With Jenny?”

“She should never have got you into that mess in the first place,” said Gibbs.  “It started the rot.”

“What rot?”

“Secrets,” said Gibbs.

Tony choked with suppressed laughter, “Yeah, that must have been hard.  What with you being so open with all of us.”

“Whatever,” said Gibbs.  “It did something to the way the team worked.”

“Wow, perhaps you should have got into this talking thing earlier, Gibbs.  Seems you’re good at it.”

“That mean you’d rather I’d been shot years ago?” asked Gibbs drily.

“No, of course not, Gibbs.  Never.”

“So, what happens now?” asked Gibbs.

“Now that you’ve admitted you’re jealous of my youth, vigour and general awesomeness?” asked Tony with a grin.

“Now that I’ve admitted that you’re a good agent and that I’ve been extra cranky because of being shot,” corrected Gibbs.

“Yeah, I guess you have,” agreed Tony.   “But, you know it started … the eye rolls, the impatience … before you were shot.  I don’t think you’ve known what to do with me for years.”

“A unique problem,” said Gibbs.

“I should have moved off the team years ago,” said Tony, “I’m not doing either of us any favours by staying.  I could do just as well somewhere else and you wouldn’t have the annoyance of having a dresser too big for the squad room taking up space.

“Go on,” said Gibbs, “But I’m not saying I agree with you.”

 “Losing my memory for a while … well, it’s made me see things clearly for the first time in years.  I saw us as if I was a stranger and somehow it was easier to see what was going from the outside.  And you know, Gibbs somehow it put things in perspective – don’t take this the wrong way but it put you into perspective too.”

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“I saw you as a _person_ not a superman or demigod.  A strong personality, powerful but not so all-important as you were.  I spent fifteen years trying to work out how to please you … but now somehow I’m not so in awe of you.”  Tony paused then hurried on, “Although I don’t mean that you’re not important … good at your job … awesome … everything.  It’s just that I won’t shrivel up and die inside if you’re get angry with me.  And I may not pee in my pants if I spill your coffee.  But, you’re still …”

“I get the idea,” said Gibbs drily.

 “And I remembered what was good about the way we worked,” said Tony, “And I saw how much it had changed and how miserable it was making me and perhaps both of us.  I don’t remember anything about the last op but I remember Vance asking me to go on it and I was relieved to say _yes_ and be out of the squad room for a while.  That can’t be good.”

“No,” said Gibbs.

“But I had forgotten what was good.  That had all disappeared under the weight of your disapproval.”

“I never disapproved of you,” said Gibbs, “I’ve always known you’re a good agent … I just forgot to let you know.”

“I guess it happened when the team got bigger,” said Tony, “More people to talk to.  A shy, retiring guy like me was bound to get the short straw!”

“Yeah, right,” said Gibbs.  “And you’ve been restless lately.  All this searching out your family history.  Trying to find somewhere to belong.  Always thought you belonged on the _team_.”

“Team as family,” said Tony reflectively.  “It didn’t seem quite that way.  Guess that’s why I’ve been looking for something else.  Don’t get me wrong, Senior has his moments but he’s not exactly reliable.”

“So, what happens next?” asked Gibbs.  “We good now?”

“Yes,” said Tony.  “You know, I thought of not telling you that I remembered.  I thought it would mean I could slip away and you’d let me go but I decided that …”

“… you’d never be able to fool me,” said Gibbs confidently.

“Yes, I would!  I’m good at undercover,” protested Tony.  “Admittedly I tend to screw up when any of my esteemed co-workers are watching …”

“But never when it matters,” said Gibbs, “And it always made them feel good.”

“When you’re a genius like me, you have to look out for the little people,” said Tony pompously, “Let them think there’s hope.  That the idol has feet of clay, that …”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Gibbs before adding, “But I’ve always known you were good, Tony.”

“You did a good job on me, Gibbs,” said Tony.  “And I’m grateful.”

“But?” asked Gibbs.

“I spoke to Vance.  Turns out there’s an opening at Silverdale.  Tamsin McCorquodale is looking for a new SFA …”

“Why move to another team as Senior Field Agent?” said Gibbs, “Might as well stay in DC doing that.”

“It’s the name,” said Tony solemnly, “McCorquodale – it’s irresistible.  It’s destiny, all these years of training in the foothills with McGee.  It’s time to step up.”

“You think your new Boss would let you mcmangle her name?” asked Gibbs.

“Good point.  And nice one, Gibbs.  She’s retiring in six months.  The new SFA will step up to team lead when she goes.”

Gibbs nodded with approval.  “It’s a long way, Tony.  Different from DC.”

“I know.  But I kinda like it in Washington State.  It’s only about an hour from Cedaron.  Probably less if I drive like you.  Be good to keep in touch with George and Celia – I owe them a lot, you know.”

“And Scribble.”

“Doodle,” corrected Tony.  “He’s about to become a father.  I may be able to have one of the pups.  I’ll name it Scribble in your honour.”

“Good luck explaining that one,” said Gibbs.

“And you can get new people for your team,” said Tony, “New projects to work on.  And you’ll have the project of making McGee into your Senior Field Agent.  Lots to do.”

“You’ll still be the best, Anthony,” said Gibbs.  “You don’t have to go, you know.”

“Yes, I do,” said Tony, “We’d be OK for a while but I figure we’d end up butting heads again.  And that’s no good for anyone.  This way perhaps we can be friends?”

“Well …” said Gibbs.

“And now you know the way to Cedaron you could come visit.  George is thinking of building some back to basics cabins …”

“He is?”

“Yeah.  Like I said, he can’t help but have ideas.  I told him how you were a bit sniffy about the deluxe models and he thought you might have a point.  Might be more people like you around who prefer the idea of getting more back to nature.  You could come test them out.”

“I could do,” agreed Gibbs.

“And we’ll meet up at all those supervisor conferences that the Director is so fond of,” suggested Tony.

“I’m busy that day,” said Gibbs firmly.

“You don’t know when they are yet?” protested Tony.

“That’s why I have a resident hacker,” said Gibbs.

“But we are good, aren’t we?” said Tony with a hint of anxiety.  “Or better, anyway?”

“Yes, Tony.  We’re good.  All this talking’s made my mouth dry.  Want another beer?  I could order some takeout?”

Tony smiled at this evidence that he and Gibbs were on an even keel once more … even it had taken amnesia, concussion, kidnapping, a change of job and a house move of thousands of miles.

“Thanks, Boss.  And – I never thought I’d say it – thanks for the talk.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected to fix things so much between Tony and Gibbs but I guess I’m a softie at heart even if I have moved Tony thousands of miles out of head slap range!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in the story. The characters don’t belong to me unless their names are George, Celia, Dr Zib, Dr Allard or, of course, Doodle.


End file.
